UC-NRLF 


GIFT  OF 


I    O  1-VfOtYA        Co  f_  t  f  £  f 
I    ^      I    5~ 


Mr 
L 

Dea 
cov 


A    MESA   TOWN   OF  TUSAYAN 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 


A  PLAY 
IN  THREE  ACTS  AND  AN  EPILOGUE 

BY 
CARL  I.  WHEAT 


WRITTEN  FOR  AND  PRESENTED  BY 

THE  CLASS  OF  1915 
POMONA  COLLEGE 


GREEK  THEATRE,  CLAREMONT,  CAL 
JUNE  15,  1915 


COPYRIGHT  1915 

BY 
CABL  I.  WHEAT 


I  All  rights  reserved] 


KINO    PRINTING    COMPANY 
POMONA.    CAL. 


INTRODUCTION 

In  those  days,  long  before  Christopher  Columbus  first 
landed  on  the  shores  of  the  New  World,  there  existed  a  group 
of  tiny  republics  in  a  part  of  the  America  which  he  was  des 
tined  to  discover.  Even  then  the  people  of  these  little  "city- 
states"  built  their  houses  of  stone  rising  story-on-story  above 
the  tops  of  lofty  desert  mesas,  and  lived  in  comparative  peace 
in  a  land  of  fierce,  nomadic  tribes,  against  whom  they  fought 
only  to  defend  their  homes.  Here  they  tilled  the  soil  and 
developed  a  system  of  laws  and  government  They  recognized 
the  rights  of  property,  and  elected  their  rulers  in  true  demo 
cratic  fashion. 

These  people  inhabited  what  is  now  New  Mexico  and 
Northeastern  Arizona,  where  their  descendants  still  live  in 
the  storied  pueblos  of  their  fathers.  Here  they  cultivated 
maize  and  cotton,  and  wove  the  latter  into  a  cloth  which  was 
the  admiration  of  the  Spaniards  when,  under  Coronado  in 
1537,  the  white  men  first  saw  the  Pueblos — as  these  people 
are  called. 

Three  years  after  Coronado  had  discovered  the  Pueblos 
of  the  Rio  Grande  valley,  his  lieutenant,  Don  Pedro  del  Tovar, 
led  a  portion  of  the  Spanish  expedition  to  the  west  and  north, 
where  he  discovered  the  Grand  Canyon  of  the  Colorado  in 
what  is  now  Northern  Arizona.  Nearby,  in  the  very  heart  of 
El  Desierto  Pintado — "The  Painted  Desert" — he  found  another 
group  of  pueblo-building  Indians,  who  called  themselves  the 
Hopituh — "People  of  Peace."  On  the  summits  of  three  rocky 
mesas,  rising  hundreds  of  feet  above  the  sands,  they  had  built 
their  villages,  and  they  retreated  to  these  impregnable  heights 
when  attacked  by  their  war-like  Navajo  neighbors.  Below  the 
mesas  they  tilled  the  fields,  where  the  men  of  the  tribe  wrung 
a  meagre  subsistence  of  corn  from  the  sandy  soil.  Their  only 
water  was  that  which  seeped  out  of  tiny  springs  in  the  rocks, 
and  when  these  failed  them  death  was  inevitable.  Such  was 
the  so-called  "Land  of  Tusayan." 

The  religious  beliefs  of  men  are  largely  influenced  either 


314797 


•••  .  TltS  GODS  AEE  GOOD 

by  what  they 'need  most'or  fear  most,  and  it  is  only  natural 
that  in  the  religion  of  the  Hopis,  as  we  call  these  people  to 
day,  the  need  of  water  with  its  life-giving  power  should  play 
a  predominant  part.  In  fact,  nearly  all  their  great  relig 
ious  ceremonials  are  actually  elaborate  and  symbolic  prayers 
for  rain.  Of  these  the  most  notable  are  the  Snake  Dance  and 
the  Flute  Dance,  both  prayers  to  "Those  Above"  for  "the 
water  that  is  life."  In  the  Snake  Dance  the  snakes  are  danced 
with  and  chanted  to,  and  then  set  free  with  the  prayer  that 
they  will  go  out  and  tell  the  gods  about  the  Hopi's  need,  for 
the  snakes  are  thot  to  be  in  close  touch  with  the  gods.  In  the 
Flute  Dance  we  see  a  primitive  dramatization  of  history  and 
religion.  The  priests  of  the  flute  clan  review  the  history  of 
the  people  and  in  chants  pray  that  the  gods  "may  not  forget." 
In  "The  Gods  are  Good"  we  are  taken  back  into  the 
ancient  Hopi  Pueblo  of  Oraibi  as  it  was  many  centuries  ago, 
long  before  the  Europeans  set  foot  on  the  soil  of  the  New 
World.  It  is  a  time  of  terrible  drought,  and  the  priests  of  the 
Blue  Flute  Clan  are  about  to  enact  their  dramatic  prayer  for 
rain.  The  action  of  the  play  is  complete  in  a  single  day,  the 
first  act  being  in  the  morning,  the  second  in  the  afternoon, 
and  the  third  in  the  evening  of  this  day  of  the  Flute  Dance, 
'laere  is  also  an  epilogue  later  in  the  evening. 


SYNOPSIS  OF  THE  PLAY 

ACT  ONE.     SCENE  ONE. 

Hotewa,  foster  son  of  Cochewa,  the  old  priest  of  Oraibi, 
has  been  chosen  to  lead  the  Flute  Dance.  It  is  a  time  of  ter 
rible  drought,  and  the  dance  is  to  be  the  people's  last  despair 
ing  prayer  for  rain.  Hotewa  is  in  love  with  Nampeyo,  daugh 
ter  of  Tewani,  the  chief,  and  she  with  him;  but  Tewani 
promises  Nampeyo  to  Tanto  in  return  for  the  sacred  eagle 
basket  of  good  luck  which  Tanto  wins  in  the  race  early  in  the 
act.  Hotewa  hears  of  this  and  tells  Nampeyo  and  they  plan 
to  run  away  together  to  the  land  of  the  Tehuas  on  the  Rio 
Grande.  They  plan  to  get  away  that  very  day  as  the  marriage 
is  set  to  begin  that  evening.  But  several  incidents  happen  in 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  ^"     '  *,';**'     7^ 

quick  succession  to  show  Hotewa  plainly 'that  he,  above  all 
others,  is  looked  to  by  the  whole  tribe  to  save  the  people  from 
death  and  to  prevail  on  the  Gods  to  send  the  needed  rain. 
Not  knowing  what  to  do,  and  torn  between  his  love  for  Nam- 
peyo  and  his  loyalty  to  the  tribe,  he  at  length  goes  down  into 
the  sacred  underground  council-chamber,  or  Kiva,  to  pray 
the  Gods  for  a  sign. 

SCENE  Two. 

In  the  Kiva  Hotewa  prays  for  a  sign.  A  vision  appears  of 
Nampeyo.  He  believes  it  is  the  sign  from  heaven  and  is  about 
to  depart  when  it  fades  and  another  vision  appears  of  the 
starving  people  dying  from  lack  of  water.  He  tries  to  look 
away  but  a  certain  power  forces  him  to  look  at  it,  and  he 
finally  accepts  this  as  the  command  of  the  Gods  to  stay  and 
give  up  Nampeyo  for  the  sake  of  the  tribe. 

ACT  Two.     SCENE  ONE. 

Preparations  are  being  made  for  the  dance.  Old  Cochewa, 
the  grand  old  man  of  the  tribe,  climbs  to  the  topmost  roof  to 
watch  for  a  cloud.  Just  before  the  dance  starts  Nampeyo  sees 
Hotewa,  and  for  the  first  time  knows  that  she  has  lost  him. 
He  seems  oblivious  of  everything  except  the  dance.  It  grows 
wilder  and  wilder.  And  yet  no  rain.  Nikano,  the  scoffer, 
mocks  the  efforts  of  the  dancers  and  Tanto  joins  him  in  con 
tempt  for  the  ancestral  Gods.  The  rest  of  the  people  are 
almost  ready  to  believe  them  for  no  cloud  appears.  At  last, 
as  the  dance  is  finished,  old  Cochewa,  unable  longer  to  stand 
the  strain,  totters  and  falls,  and  the  scene  closes  as  the  men 
carry  him  down  into  the  Kiva. 

SCENE  Two. 

In  the  Kiva  Nikano,  the  scoffer,  scornfully  declares,  "There 
are  no  Gods."  The  dying  Cochewa  rises  and  with  his  last 
strength  calls  on  the  Hopis  not  to  listen,  but  to  stand  by  the 
Gods  of  their  fathers.  In  a  prophetic  vision  he  speaks  of  the 
rain  to  come  and  lays  a  dying  curse  upon  the  scoffer.  As  he 
sinks  back  a  cry  outside  is  heard,  "The  Rain,"  but  he  is  uncon 
scious.  Then  the  rain  begins  to  fall  upon  the  roof  and  a  few 
drops  come  thru  the  doorway  and  strike  Cochewa  in  the  face. 
His  eyes  open  and  he  speaks,  "God  of  my  fathers,  it  is  the 
rain!  I  die  in  peace."  Out  of  the  Kiva  rush  the  men,  sobbing 


••.  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

and  wild*  with ;  joy. '  Hotewa  alone  remains  with  the  dead 
Cochewa.  He  has  done  his  duty.  His  loyalty  to  the  tribe  has 
brot  the  rain.  But  Nampeyo  is  lost,  and  Hotewa  feels  that  he 
can  no  longer  stay  in  Oraibi  if  he  must  see  her  married  to 
Tanto. 

ACT  THREE. 

The  feast  is  on,  for  the  rain  has  come  and  the  "People  of 
Peace"  are  saved.  Everyone  praises  Hotewa,  who  led  the 
Flute  Dance.  They  say  that  he  is  still  in  the  Kiva  praying 
to  the  Gods  and  grieving  over  the  death  of  Cochewa.  Nampeyo 
alone  knows  what  it  really  is  that  he  is  grieving  over.  At  her 
father's  command  she  is  making  ready  to  marry  Tanto.  When 
everyone  has  departed  for  the  feast,  Hotewa  comes  from  the 
Kiva  and  says  goodbye  to  Oraibi.  He  has  lost  that  which  he 
most  desired  and  feels  that  now  there  is  nothing  to  hold  him 
to  Oraibi.  He  has  decided  to  go  away  to  the  Tehua  villages 
across  the  desert.  Immediately  after  he  has  gone,  Nampeyo 
goes  to  the  Kiva  saying  that  no  one  can  keep  her  from  saying 
goodbye  to  Hotewa.  She  discovers  that  he  is  gone  and  spreads 
the  news  to  the  feasting  people.  Some  go  after  him.  Just 
then  the  news  is  brot  to  Tewani,  who  is  beginning  to  wish 
that  he  had  not  promised  Nampeyo  to  Tanto,  that  Nikano,  the 
scoffer,  has  fallen  over  the  cliff  to  death  as  Cochewa  had  said 
in  his  prophecy  and  curse.  The  people  say  that  Tanto  is  next 
and  draw  away  from  him.  Tewani  cries,  "My  daughter  shall 
not  marry  one  who  scoffs  at  the  givers  of  rain."  Tanto  re 
minds  him  of  his  promise;  but  Tewani,  enraged,  cries,  "By 
the  Gods  I  swore  it — by  the  Gods  at  whom  you  scoff, — and  now 
by  those  same  Gods  I  take  away  my  promise."  He  throws  the 
Eagle  Basket  at  Tanto's  feet  and  bids  him  go.  The  act  closes 
with  Tewani's  appeal  that  Hotewa  be  found. 

EPILOGUE.     TABLEAU  SCENE. 

The  scene  opens  as  Act  I,  Scene  I,  with  Mooa,  the  crier, 
calling  on  the  people  to  give  thanks  for  the  rain.  The  Pueblo 
is  dark  except  for  a  light  from  Tewani's  doorway  where  Nam 
peyo  is  waiting  for  news  of  Hotewa.  As  Mooa  calls,  Hotewa 
stealthily  comes  in  to  say  goodbye  for  the  last  time  to  the  home 
of  his  childhood,  and  to  place  a  prayer-stick  for  happiness  at 
Nampeyo's  doorway  before  he  leaves  her  forever.  He  does 


THE  GODS  ABE  GOOD  9 

not  know  that  Tanto  is  discredited.  He  looks  in  the  lighted 
doorway  and  sees  Nampeyo,  and  wants  to  speak  to  her  but 
does  not  dare.  He  starts  away  but  is  accidentally  discovered 
by  Tewani,  who  leads  him  into  the  house.  The  door  closes 
for  a  moment  and  the  stage  is  dark.  Then  Hotewa  and  Nam 
peyo  appear  and  walk  along  the  rooftop.  As  they  reach  the 
edge  a  distant  peal  of  thunder  is  heard,  and  then,  as  they  em 
brace,  Hotewa  cries,  "The  Gods  are  Good." 


EXECUTIVE   COMMITTEE 


Director ,  . .  .William  L.  Stanton 

Assistant  Director Carl  I.  Wheat 

Stage  Manager William  G.  Metz 

Assistant  Stage  Manager Colvin  Heath 

Property  Manager Ralph  P.  James 

Assistant  Properties Ernest  W.  Rougher 

Stage  Carpenter Rollin  J.  La  Follette 

Electrician William  E.  Hudson 

Rusiness  Manager Ryron  S.  Phillips 

Assistant  Rusiness  Manager Paul  R.  Daggs 

Advertising  Manager Courtenay  S.  Overin 

House  Manager Archie  G.  Postlethwait 

Chairman  Music  Committee Miss  Florence  W.  Hoover 

Chairman  Costume  Committee Miss  Florence  T.  Holme 

Dances Miss  Francene  L.  Bishop 


PERSONS    IN    THE    DRAMA 


AN  OLD  PIUEST  IN  THE  PROLOGUE 

COCHEWA The  Old  Priest 

TKWAM Chief  of  Oraibi 

HOTKWA Young  Leader  of  the  Flute  Priests 

NIKANO The  Scoffer 

TANTO Whose  Fields  are  Broad 

AHTOWAN A  Man  of  Oraibi 

MOOA The  Village  Crier 

SOYOMI Much  Henpecked 

DOKOYA The  Storyteller 

An  w  ANTE      \ 

NOTAWA  f 

IOWANO          / Young  Men  of  Oraibi 

YOWYTEWA      ) 

NAMPEYO Daughter  of  Tewani 

MATASE Daughter  of  Cochewa 

TAWASE Wife  of  Mooa 

WATOBE Wife  of  Soyomi,  and  Master  of  the  Household 

VILLAGERS,    FLUTE    PRIESTS,    RUNNERS,    CORN    MAIDENS,  FLUTE 
MAIDENS,  AND  CHILDREN. 


SCENE— The  Hopi  Pueblo  of  Oraibi 

TIME — The  day  of  the  Flute  Dance — a  thousand  years  ago. 

ACT  I 

Scene  I — The  Pueblo — Morning. 

Scene  II— The  Kiva — Directly  after  Scene  I. 

ACT  II 

Scene  I — The  Pueblo — Afternoon. 

Scene  II — The  Kiva — Directly  after  Scene  1. 

ACT  III — The  Pueblo— Early  evening. 
EPILOGUE — The  Pueblo — Later  in  the  evening. 

10 


PROLOGUE 


'THOSE  DAYS  OF  OLD  ARE  GONE  IN  TUSAYAN' 


PLAN  OF  STAGE — PUEBLO  SCENE 


ENTRANCE!  AMD  EXITS 


REAR 


WINDOWS   -  •  ------ 


CENTER  .'' 


< BRIGHT 


SCALt 


tOFr. 


PROLOGUE 


(This  Prologue  is  spoken  just  before  the  curtain  is  to  rise 
by  an  old.  robed  priest,  who  comes  before  the  curtain  and  ad 
dresses  the -audience  as  follows:) 

Aliksai!  In  Tusayan  the  people  were  living,  and  it  was 
many,  many  years  ago;  aye  many  plantings  before  the  men  of 
the  white  skins  first  looked  upon  the  mesa  towns  of  the  Hopi- 
tuh,  People  of  Peace.  Then,  even  as  now,  they  lived  in  their 
cities  in  the  sky  worshipping  the  Gods  of  their  Fathers,  for 
were  not  they  the  chosen  people  of  the  Ancient  Ones,  and  had 
not  the  Gods  been  good  to  them?  Long  years  they  had  lived 
here,  since  first  the  Spirits  from  above  had  pointed  to  these 
towering  mesas  and  bade  the  old  men  rear  their  cities  here. 
Here  they  sowed  the  seed  of  maize  and  it  grew  abundantly,  for 
the  Gods  were  gracious.  Twice  only  had  They  held  back  the 
rain  in  the  treasuries  of  the  skies,  yet  each  time  the  water 
came  again  when  their  anger  was  at  length  appeased.  For  the 
Gods  loved  the  people  of  the  mesa  towns,  and  wished  them 
well.  And  in  this  desert  land  the  rain  is  life. 

So  we  take  you  back  tonight  into  that  ancient,  mystic 
world  of  Tusayan,  where  men  have  lived  and  loved  and  died 
since  time  forgotten.  Those  days  are  gone  indeed  in  Tusayan, 
but  we  may  live  them  o'er  again.  Come,  then,  with  me  and 
look  again  upon  the  times  of  the  Ancient  Ones  of  elder  days. 
Draw  back  the  curtain, — time  falls  away, — in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye  an  age-long  thousand  years  are  gone.  It  is  the 
dawn!  Draw  back  the  curtain, — look  ye  once  more  on  ancient 
Tusayan. 


12 


ACT  1. 


"THE  GODS  HAVE  FORGOTTEN  US' 


13 


ACT  I.     SCENE  L 


THE  PUEBLO 

(Curtain  discloses  Pueblo  in  first  glow  of  dawn.  Low  flute 
melody  heard  proceeding  from  Kiva  opening.  Then  chant  is 
heard,  loiv  at  first — then  higher  and  stronger  as  light  grows 
stronger  on  stage.  As  chant  comes  to  climax — enter  Mooa  from 
Kiva — he  is  naked  but  for  a  scanty  breech-cloth  and  eagle 
feather  in  hair.  Slowly  comes  from  Kiva,  looks  about  him, 
then  climbs  the  ladder  to  the  first  roof.  Again  he  stops — then 
climbs  on  to  the  topmost  point.  There  he  halts — waiting.) 

VOICE  FROM  KIVA.    Call  Mooa,  for  the  day  has  come. 

MOOA.  (To  Kiva.)  I  call.  (To  village,  musical  call,  long 
drawn  out.)  Ai — ee,  ai — ee!  Awake,  people  of  Oraibi. 
(Pause.) 

VOICE.    Call  louder. 

MOOA.  Ai — ee!  Awake!  Already  your  young  men  are 
running  on  the  trail.  The  priests  have  chanted  thru  the  long- 
night  in  the  Kiva.  It  is  the  sixteenth  day. 

VOICE.     (Slight  pause.)     Once  more  Mooa,  call  the  people. 

MOOA.  Arise!  They  dance  today  the  dance  of  flutes  in 
old  Oraibi,  that  Those  Above  may  hearken  to  our  prayer  for 
rain. 

(Enter  Cochewa,  Rear  2 — He  is  very  old,  wears  a  skin 
over  his  shoulders;  his  back  is  bent  with  age,  and  he  totters 
as  he  walks.  His  voice  is  trembly  as  an  old  man's  voice,  but 
he  has  a  certain  nobility  of  bearing.) 

COCHEWA.    (Hesitatingly.)    You  call  early,  Mooa. 

MOOA.    Yes,  father,  but  the  sun  will  soon  be  high. 

COCHEWA.  It  is  so.  Many  years  I  have  led  the  flute  dance. 
Now  I  am  old.  I  pass  it  on  to  Hotewa.  Call  on,  Mooa. 

MOOA.  (To  village.)  Ai — ee!  With  flutes  they  play  to  the 
Rain  Gods.  Arise,  people  of  Oraibi. 

COCHEWA.  Alas,  we  are  in  sore  need.  May  Those  above 
hear  us. 

(Chant  is  heard  from  Kiva — also  flute  at  intervals.  People 
enter  by  twos  and  threes  as  Cochewa  and  Mooa  talk.) 

COCHEWA.     (Talking  on,  half  to  himself.)    Listen!     In  the 

14 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  15 

Kiva  they  are  making  ready.  (Flute  grows  louder  then  dies 
away.)  Hearken!  You  who  dwell  above.  They  pray  for 
rain.  (Cochewa  sits  on  bench  and  rocks  to  and  fro  moaning 
to  himself.) 

MOOA.  Grieve  not  Cochewa.  The  young  men  are  strong 
and  fleet. 

COCHEWA.  Aye!  But  what  is  fleetness  when  the  spring  is 
dry?  Ai — ee,  (Sob  of  grief)  ai — ee!  My  corn  is  almost  gone — 
(Change  of  demeanor.  He  gestures  and  points  as  he  speaks.) 
Hear  me!  I  am  old  and  fit  to  die,  for  my  life  has  been  long  in 
Tusayan.  Gladly  will  I  go.  But  there  (points)  in  my  daugh 
ter's  house  her  baby  is  crying  for  food,  and  (tragically)  its 
mother's  breasts  are  dry.  (Rising.)  Call  on,  Mooa.  Call. 
Rouse  the  people  of  Oraibi  in  this  time  of  need. 

MOOA.    The  Gods  will  surely  send  the  rain. 

COCHEWA.  Ai — ee!  Who  can  tell.  Let  the  old  men  die 
unmourned,  but  if  the  children  die,  the  name  of  the  Hopituh 
will  live  no  more  in  Tusayan.  Is  Hotewa  in  the  Kiva? 

MOOA.    Yes. 

COCHEWA.    Today  he  leads  the  dance. 

MOOA.    Surely  the  Gods  will  answer  his  prayer. 

COCHEWA.  May  it  be  so!  I  have  brought  him  up  as  my  own 
son.  I  have  taught  him  all  the  secrets  of  the  Blue  Flute  Clan, 
and  there  is  no  one  else  who  can  lead  the  ancient  dance — no 
one  else  who  knows  the  secret  things  that  have  power  with  the 
Gods  above.  Give  him  strength,  oh,  you  Ancient  Ones.  He 
alone  can  save  the  people. 

(Cochewa  totters  off  stage  rear  2,  muttering  to  himself. 
Re-enters  as  BOY  ENTERS  RUNNING  lower  left.  People 
gather  on  stage.) 

BOY.    The  runners  are  coming  up  the  trail. 

VOICE  FROM  KIVA.  Call  again,  Mooa,  for  with  the  runners 
comes  the  sun. 

MOOA.  Come,  people  of  Oraibi.  Greet  thy  young  men. 
Arise!  (Long  drawn  out.) 

(Mooa  slowly  comes  down  as  people  gather  on  stage — 
exit  into  Kiva.  Enter  Notawa  center.  He  climbs  hurriedly  to 
first  roof — looks  over  rear.) 

NOTAWA.    They  are  coming. 

( All  look  toward  spot  at  which  he  points.) 


16  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

IOWANO.    Who  leads? 

NOTAWA.    I  can't  quite  make  out. 

VOICE  FROM  FAR  AWAY.      Ai — 66 !      Ai — 66 ! 

NOTAWA.  Look!  They  are  starting  up  the  mesa.  A  race! 
A  race! 

IOWANO.    Who  is  leading? 

NOTAWA.    It  is  (pause)  Ahwante. 

PEOPLE.  (Confusedly  shouting.)  Ahwante!  Ahwante  is 
leading. 

(Enter  Corn  Maidens  led  by  Nampeyo,  lower  left.  People 
step  lack  to  let  them  pass.) 

NOTAWA.    They  near  the  turn. 

(Enter  Tewani  from  his  doorway.) 

TEWANI.    Who  leads? 

NOTAWA.    It  is  Ahwante,  Chief. 

TEWANI.    Where  are  the  others? 

NAMPEYO.    Come,  father,  hurry. 

TEWANI.    Yes,  Nampeyo. 

(Tewani  hastens  down  ladder.) 

NOTAWA.  See!     They  are  passing  the  turn.    Tanto — 

NAMPEYO.    What  of  Tanto? 

NOTAWA.  (Excitedly.)  Tanto  is  close  behind — Ahwante 
stumbles — They  are  neck  to  neck — The  turn!  The  turn! 
(People  grow  more  excited.)  Ah! 

IOWANO.    What  is  it? 

NOTAWA.    Tanto  has  passed  him.    Tanto  leads. 

PEOPLE.    Tanto! 

NOTAWA.  They  come!  (Noise  heard  outside.)  Away! 
Make  room.  Ai!  Tanto  will  win. 

PEOPLE.    Tanto  will  win! 

(Enter  Tanto,  lower  left,  panting,  but  not  exhausted. 
Ahwante  staggers  in  soon  after.  People  crowd  around.  Corn 
Maidens  throw  pollen  over  the  runners  as  they  come  in.  Little 
children  pelt  them  with  corn  stalks.) 

CORN  MAIDENS.     (Chanting) — 

Brothers, — runners  of  the  sun, — 

With  prayers  of  rich  success  we  greet  you. 

Brothers, — runners  of  the  sun, — 

With  corn  and  songs  of  joy  we  meet  you. 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  17 

Come  and  dance  with  us,  ye  runners; 
Come  and  dance  with  us  the  corn  dance, 
That  the  Gods  above  may  hearken, 
That  the  Gods  above  may  hear  us. 

PEOPLE.     (Chanting) — 

Come  and  dance  the  joyous  corn  dance, 
That  the  Gods  may  send  the  raindrops. 

(Corn  maidens  dance  the  Corn  Dance  accompanied 
by  tom-tom  and  "Ho-ya"  shouts  of  onlookers,  loho  applaud 
frequently.  As  the  dance  closes  the  corn  maidens  again  throw 
pollen  over  the  runners  and  children  pelt  them  with  corn 
stalks.  Tanto  goes  to  opening  of  Kiva.  People  begin  to  dis 
perse,  talking  to  one  another.  One  goes  to  the  loom  by  door 
way.  A  woman  works  on  a  basket  on  second  level.) 

TEWANI.    (From  above.)    Come,  Nampeyo. 

NAMPEYO.  Yes,  father.  (She  starts  up  the  ladder.  Tanto, 
sitting  on  the  bench  of  the  Kiva  opening,  follows  her  with  his 
eyes.  She  looks  around  and  he  quickly  looks  away.) 

TANTO.  (Under  his  breath  as  Nampeyo  goes  into  door 
way.)  Nampeyo! 

(There  is  silence  for  a  moment.  Then  Hotewa  enters  from 
the  Kiva  with  three  baskets.) 

HOTEWA.  (Solemnly.)  Tanto,  you  have  won  the  holy  race, 
and  to  you  I  give  these  baskets  of  good  luck.  Take  them  and 
plant  them  in  your  field  and  you  shall  have  much  corn. 
(Tanto  bows  to  receive  them.)  The  Eagle  Basket! — The 
Storm  Basket! — and  the  Basket  of  the  Niman  Katchina! 
(Raising  his  arm  in  gesture.)  These  are  the  Sacred  Baskets — 
They  are  the  most  precious  gift  the  Gods  can  bestow  on  you. 

(Exit  Hotewa  into  Kiva.  Tanto  goes  toward  lower  left. 
Stops  as  flute  begins  playing.  "Bull-roarer''  used  here  to  call 
priests  from  Kiva.  Flute  priests  then  silently  file  up  out  of 
Kiva  and  off  center,  stamping  rhythmically,  and  chanting. 
"When  all  are  gone  Tanto  comes  over  to  point  beneath  chiefs 
doorway.  Holds  up  baskets.) 

TANTO.  Ah,  Nampeyo!  They  call  you  Sipala,  bloom  of 
the  peach  tree.  With  these  magic,  sacred  baskets  I  will  woo 
thee.  Watch  carefully,  for  /  will  pluck  the  peach  blossom. 
(Enter  Hotewa,  center.  Sees  Tanto  and  stops.)  Twice  you 


18  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

have  denied  me.  This  time  /  shall  win.  (Tanto  starts  to  go — 
Hotewa  stands  still  in  corner  of  house  and  is  unnoticed.) 

HOTEWA.    (Watching  him.)    Yes?    (Quietly.) 

(Exit  Tanto,  lower  left,  and  Hotewa  to  Kiva.  Enter 
Cochewa  rear  2.) 

COCHEWA.  (Holding  out  two  ears  of  corn — Tragically.) 
Ai — ee!  My  corn,  my  corn!  Gone,  gone!  (Sits  on  bench  on 
first  roof  still  gazing  at  the  corn.  As  he  sits  the  low  flute 
melody  begins.  As  it  grows  louder  he  rises,  looking  far 
away — towards  audience;  flute  plays  softly  as  he  speaks.) 
Oh,  Thou  Sun,  Father  of  the  Hopituh.  In  this  hour  of  need,f  or- 
get  not  Thy  people.  I  think  not  of  myselm.  I  am  old,  and  when 
my  corn  is  gone  I  shall  die  with  no  complaint.  But,  oh,  Thou 
Spirit  of  Power,  guide  of  the  Hopituh,  save  Thou  Thy  people 
who  this  day  dance  the  sacred  dance  of  Flutes.  (Pause.)  It  is 
all  Oraibi  that  is  calling  Thee. 

(Cochewa  totters  down  ladder,  muttering  to  himself.  Exit 
center  as  Dokoya  enters  from  upper  doorway — not  chiefs 
house — and  descends  ladder.  Dokoya  begins  working  at  some 
thing  near  corner  of  house.  Enter  Soyomi,  running  heedlessly. 
Butts  head  into  Dokoya.) 

DOKOYA.    Hi,  there,  what  are  you  after? 

SOYOMI.    I'm  not  after  anything.    My  wife's  after  me. 

DOKOYA.    What  for? 

SOYOMI.    For  the  tenth  time  today. 

WATOBE.     (Outside.)     Soyomi.     (High,  harsh  voice.) 

SOYOMI.    The  Gods  have  deserted  me. 

(Hunts  around  for  some  place  to  hide.) 

DOKOYA.    The  idea  of  being  afraid  of  your  wife! 

SOYOMI.    Eh?    What?    You  don't  know  my  wife. 

DOKOYA.     Well,  I  wouldn't  run  away  from  her  like  this. 

(Soyomi  peers  cautiously  around  and  then  climbs  into 
bake  oven.) 

WATOBE.     (Outside.)     Soyomi,  oh,  Soyomi. 

(He  jerks  his  head  in.  Then  in  a  minute  sticks  it  out 
again.) 

SOYOMI.  (To  Dokoya.)  Help  me.  Send  her  away.  Do 
something. 

DOKOYA.    Leave  it  to  me. 

(Enter  Watobe;  sees  Dokoya  and  mistakes  him  for  Soy- 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  19 

oini.  Goes  to  hit  him.  He  looks  up  just  in  time  to  dodge. 
Look  of  terror  comes  over  his  face.  Watobe  discovers  mistake 
but  is  not  bothered.  Thru  rest  of  this  scene  Soyomi  peeks  out 
once  in  a  while.  Sees  Dokoya  get  frightened  and  enjoys  it 
hugely.) 

WATOBE.     (To  Dokoya.)     Have  you  seen  him? 

DOKOYA.    (Still  scared.)    Seen  who? 

WATOBE.    Soyomi. 

DOKOYA.  (Looking  around.)  He  was  here  a  minute  ago. 
He  must  have  gone  out. 

WATOBE.  Well,  I  want  him.  The  idea  of  him  leaving  when 
the  corn  isn't  ground  yet! 

DOKOYA.    Yes,  the  idea! 

WATOBE.  What?  (Makes  motion  toward  Dokoya.  who 
dodges.)  Soyomi.  Soyomi,  come  here. 

DOKOYA.     (Aside.)    Poor  man! 

WATOBE.  (Quickly.)  What's  that?  (Dokoya  dodges.)  Oh, 
he's  a  trial  to  my  soul. 

DOKOYA.     (Ironically.)    Yes? 

WATOBE.  Yes!  (Sobs.)  Poor  dear.  I  have  to  look  after 
him  all  the  time. 

DOKOTA.    Yes,  I  notice  you're  doing  that  now. 

WATOBE.  (Dries  eyes  fiercely.)  I'll  show  him  when  I  get 
him.  He'll  be  in  a  hot  place. 

DOKOYA.    Ha!     Ha!     That's  good! 

WATOBE.    Why? 

DOKOYA.    Because  he  is  now. 

WATOBE.    Is  what  now? 

DOKOYA.    In  a  hot  place. 

WATOBE.  Well,  when  I  get  him  I'll — I'll — (Calls) — Soyomi, 
oh,  Soyomi. 

(Exit  Watobe.  Soyomi  sticks  his  head  out.  Starts  to 
crawl  out.  Coughs  and  spits  out  ashes.) 

SOYOMI.  Ugh!  What  a  place!  (Coughing.)  I  nearly 
burnt. 

DOKOYA.  But  you  escaped  her.  (Looks  apprehensively 
about.) 

SOYOMI.    No  telling  how  long. 

DOKOYA.    I  told  her  you  were  in  a  hot  place. 

SOYOMI.     (Ironically.)    Yes,  I  heard  you.    I  was  sitting  on 


20  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

one  hot  coal  trying  to  get  another  out  of  my  ear  when, — Ah — 
choo! 

WATOBE.     (Outside.)     That's  his  sneeze. 

(She  comes  running  in.  He  dodges  behind  corner  of 
house.) 

SOYOMI.     (To  Dokoya.)     Save  me. 

(Watobe  comes  up  to  Dokoya,  who  immediately  dodges 
and  tries  to  get  away.) 

WATOBE.  (Grabs  him.)  You  tell  me  where  he  is.  You 
saw  him. 

(Dokoya  meekly  points  to  the  corner  behind  which  Soyomi 
is  Jiiding.  He  tries  to  get  away,  but  she  takes  him  by  the  ear 
and  pulls  him  along.) 

You're  a  fine  fellow!  Here  I've  been  hunting  everywhere 
for  you.  Why  weren't  you  here  when  I  first  called? 

SOYOMI.     (Meekly.)     I  was. 

WATOBE.  (Fiercely.)  Don't  talk  back  to  me.  Come  home. 
(Drags  him  along  by  ear.) 

SOYOMI.  Oh,  (Plaintively.)  I  almost  believe  you  don't 
love  me  any  more. 

WATOBE.    We'll  see  about  that! 

(Leads  him  out.    Dokoya  works  away  at  his  task.) 

TEWAM.  (Outside.)  Cochewa,  think  how  the  Gods  in 
years  gone  by  have  blessed  the  Hopituh. 

COCHEWA.  (Outside.)  Yes,  my  son,  I  am  thinking  of  that. 
(Enter  Cochewa  and  Tewani,  center.)  How  well  I  know  the 
mercies  of  the  Gods.  May  they  help  us  now  in  our  time  of 
distress. 

(Enter  Ahtowan  and  Nikano,  lower  left.) 

TEWANI.    Is  it  for  long,  Ahtowan,  that  the  Gods  are  angry? 

AHTOWAX.  How  shall  I  say?  My  prayers  are  nothing.  I 
have  planted  the  holy  bahoes  every  day  and  yet  no  rain  comes. 
What  of  you,  Dokoya? 

DOKOYA.    I,  too,  have  planted  bahoes — to  no  avail. 

NIKANO.  Perhaps  your  prayer  sticks  were  not  made  right. 
Try  again. 

TEWANI.  In  my  house  the  ears  of  corn  are  few,  but  surely 
I  cannot  believe  that  the  Katchinas  on  the  sacred  peaks  have 
forgotten  us. 

COCHEWA.     (Tottering  forward.)     Say  not — say  not  that 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  21 

the  Gods  have  forgotten  us.  Look!  (Points  right.)  There! 
beyond  Sit-yat-ki!  where  the  sun  touches  the  top  of  Dokoslid! 
I  see  a  cloud! 

TEWANI.    I  see  no  cloud. 

NIKANO.    It  is  only  the  fevered  imagination  of  an  old  man. 

COCHEWA.  What?  I,  who  have  danced  the  Flute  Dance 
since  the  days  of  Imatase? 

AHTOWAN.    What  do  you  see,  then? 

COCHEWA.    Behold,  beyond  Dokoslid,  I  see  a  cloud  rising — 

DOKOYA.     (Looking.)     What?    A  cloud? 

NIKANO.  (Turning  away.)  It  is  only  a  cloud  of  whirling 
dust. 

COCHEWA.  (Going  on.)  I  see  it.  /,  whom  men  say  have 
the  gift  of  future  vision.  Even  today  the  Hopituh  shall  see  it — 

NIKANO.     (Aside.)     Yes,  they  that  are  dead. 

COCHEWA.    (Continuing.)    For  the  Gods  are  good. 

NIKANO.     (Scornfully  turning  away.)     The  Gods! 

COCHEWA.  (Starting  after  him.)  Aye,  the  Gods!  Take 
heed,  scoffer,  lest  your  mad  tongue  run  faster  than  your  wit, 
and  you  lose  it. 

NIKANO.  Well,  before  that  day  thirst  will  overtake  us  all. 
Then  where  will  all  your  prayer  sticks  and  your  rain  dances 
be?  Ha! 

(Exit  Nikano,  center.) 

COCHEWA.  (Looking  after  Nikano.)  What  can  one  do 
with  a  scoffer  like  him? 

(Cochewa  slowly  climbs  the  ladder  and  totters  to  rear  2 — 
exits. 

TEWANI.  Nikano  thinks  there  are  no  Gods.  What  do  you 
think,  Ahtowan? 

AHTOWAN.  Well,  I  take  the  safe  side.  If  there  are  no 
Gods  they  can't  hurt  us  for  believing  in  them.  But  if  there 
are  Gods  and  one  doesn't  believe  in  them  think  what  evil  they 
might  bring  to  one.  So  I  believe  in  the  Gods.  Take  my  advice, 
Tewani.  Run  no  chances.  You  can  come  to  no  harm,  and 
there's  a  chance  of  rich  gain  by  believing  in  the  Gods. 
(Exit  Ahtowan  and  Dokoya,  lower  left.) 

TEWANI.  (Looking  after  them.)  How  many  of  us  there 
are  who  believe  in  that  way!  (Starts  to  go  up  ladder  to  his 
house.) 


22  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

(Enter  Tanto  carrying  Eagle  Basket.) 

TANTO.    Wait,  Tewani,  I  wish  to  speak  to  the  chief. 

TEWANI.    What  is  it? 

TANTO.    It  is  about  Nampeyo. 

TEWANI.    (Coming  down.)    Nampeyo? 

TANTO.  Yes.  (The  two  come  down  center.)  You  know  I, 
— like  many  others, — have  wanted  her  a  long  time. 

TEWANI.    Yes,  I  know. 

TANTO.  Well,  I  have  come  again  to  ask  you.  Today  I 
won  the  holy  race. 

TEWANI.    Yes? 

TANTO.    If  I  might  celebrate  my  victory — 

TEWANI.     (Pause.)    Yes? 

TANTO.  With  a  wedding.  Here,  Chief  of  Oraibi,  is  the 
Sacred  Eagle  Basket  which  I  won  today.  If  you  will  begin 
the  wedding  ceremony  between  Nampeyo  and  me  tonight,  this 
basket  shall  be  yours  to  plant  in  your  field  for  luck. 

TEWANI.  (Starting.)  What!  The  Eagle  Basket  of  the 
race? 

TANTO.    Yes,  the  Eagle  Basket.     (Holds  it  out.) 

TEWANI.     (Slowly.)    Nampeyo  is  old  enough. 

TANTO.    Older  even  than  the  most. 

TEWANI.    She,  too,  is  a  prize  of  great  value. 

TANTO.    Yes. 

TEWANI.    Others  desire  her. 

TANTO.  (Quickly.)  I  know  that.  But  I  give  you  the 
Sacred  Basket  for  your  promise. 

TEWANI.  See  here,  Tanto!  This  morning  you  won  three 
baskets,  each  of  equal  merit. 

TANTO.    But  the  Eagle  Basket  is  the  finest. 

TEWANI.  (Handling  it  and  looking  it  over.)  Yes,  it  is 
the  Eagle  Basket. 

TANTO.    It  will  bring  great  good  luck. 

TEWANI.     (Meaningly.)     Others  are  asking  for  Nampeyo. 

TANTO.    I  know. 

TEWANI.  Hotewa  is  a  good  man.  Today  he  leads  the 
dance.  (Starts  to  hand  back  the  basket.) 

TANTO.  Yes,  yes,  I  know.  But  come,  Chief!  The  basket. 
Speak. 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  23 

TEWANI.  (Takes  the  basket  again  and  looks  it  over.)  To 
night,  did  you  say? 

TANTO.    Yes,  it  must  be  tonight. 

TEWANI.     (Slowly.)     Well. 

TANTO.    Yes? 

TEWANI.  You  are  a  good  man,  Tanto,  and  you  have  won 
the  race  today.  I  have  been  in  doubt  before. 

TANTO.    But  now? 

TEWANI.    I  am  decided.    Yes,  Tanto,  I  will  do  it. 

TANTO.    Ah! 

TEWANI.    Tonight. 

TANTO.    You  promise  it? 

TEWANI.  The  Gods  are  witness  to  my  promise.  After  the 
dance  the  ceremony  shall  begin.  I  say  it,  Tewani,  the  chief. 

TANTO.  (Slowly.)  And  as  Tewani  promises,  so  it  must 
be  done. 

TEWANI.  So  it  shall  be  done.  Make  ready.  Tewani  has 
never  yet  broken  a  promise  to  Gods  or  to  men.  (Tewani  climbs 
ladder.)  Make  ready. 

(Exit  Tewani  thru  his  doonvay.) 

TANTO  (Starts  away,  then  looks  furtively  back  at  Te 
wani.)  Ah,  Nampeyo,  this  time  you  will  not  escape  me.  This 
time  the  promise  has  been  made.  Tonight  I  shall  lay  my  bas 
kets  at  your  door. 

(Exit  Tanto,  lower  left,  hearing  young  men  coming.  En 
ter  young  men,  lowano,  Ahwante,  Yowytewa,  and  others,  cen 
ter.  Play  "Peon"  game,  laugh  and  banter  one  another.  No- 
taiva  enters  from  Kiva,  ivhile  game  is  on.  Stands  and  watches 
it.  Tewani  also  comes  in  above,  and  later  descends  ladder. 
Enter  Ahtowan  and  Soyomi  center.  All  gather  around  to 
watch  game  and  applaud  winners.  As  game  progresses  one 
holds  out  a  piece  of  colored  wood  and  others  try  to  get  it. 
Finally,  the  one  with  the  object  gives  a  yell  and  runs  out 
center  with  all  the  rest,  except  Tewani,  Ahtowan,  Soyomi  and 
Hoteiua,  after  him  pell  mell,  laughing  and  yelling.) 

TEWANI.  I  wish  I  could  laugh,  today,  half  as  easily  as 
they  do. 

HOTEWA.    So  do  I. 

AHTOWAN.  Ha!  Ha!  (Slaps  knee  in  laughter.)  You  two! 
Chief  of  Oraibi  and  leader  of  the  Flute  Priests.  No  wonder 


24  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

you're  so  full  of  care  and  worry!  But  the  Hopis,  (Gestures 
after  people.)  they  are  too  carefree, — too  light-hearted, — too 
joyful — to  be  solemn. 

SOYOMI.  (Comically.)  Aye!  that's  true!  It's  no  use  to 
be  solemn!  If  you  had  a  wife,  Hotewa,  you'd  know. 

TEWANI.  I  believe  my  people  would  play  in  the  very  face 
of  death. 

AHTOWAN.  The  face  of  death  is  all  about  us,  Tewani. 
Death  lies  too  near  us  desert  folk  for  us  to  fear  it.  If  we  did 
think  about  it  we  should  never  smile  at  all.  So  it's  good  that 
the  Hopis  are  light-hearted.  Happy  and  carefree,  they  get  the 
most  out  of  life. 

HOTEWA.  But  it  is  good  for  some  to  take  the  cares  of  the 
people. 

TEWANI.    Is  everything  ready  for  the  dance,  Hotewa? 

HOTEWA.    Yes,  all  is  ready. 

TEWANI.  Dance  well  today,  my  boy.  The  rain  alone  will 
save  us. 

HOTEWA.  In  the  faith  of  the  Gods  of  old  I  shall  lead  the 
Flute  Dance. 

TEWANI.    And  tonight  we  shall  feast. 

AHTOWAN.  Yes,  if  there  is  left  any  corn  to  feast  on.  You 
must  be  strong,  Hotewa.  The  people  look  to  you  today  to  lead 
the  dance  well.  Go  and  make  ready  and  place  a  Baho  at  the 
spring. 

WATOBE.     (Outside.)    Soyomi,  oh  Soyomi! 

SOYOMI.    (Dejectedly.)    And  I  must  to  my  labors  go. 

(Enter  Nampeyo  above — smiles  at  Hotewa  as  he  goes  out 
and  waves  to  him.  Exit  Hotewa  to  Kiva,  and  Soyomi  center.) 

NAMPEYO.    Father,  oh  father! 

TEWANI.    Yes,  my  child. 

NAMPEYO.    Come,  the  corn  is  parched  and  ready. 

(Exit  Nampeyo  thru  the  Chiefs  doorway.) 

TEWANI.  (To  Ahtowan.)  Do  you  remember,  Ahtowan, 
when  we  played  together,  we  three  in  those  days  so  long  ago? 
How  like  her  mother  she  is! 

AHTOWAN.  Yes,  Tewani,  I  remember.  I  can  still  see  the 
little  houses  we  used  to  make  of  mud  and  pebbles.  We  used 
to  say  we  would  always  live  together,  but  you  won  her, — and 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  25 

now — she  is  gone.    But  you  have  little  Nampeyo.    We  all  have 
little  Nampeyo. 

(Cochewa  enters  center,  tottering  along.) 

TEWANI.  No  longer  little,  but  grown  to  womanhood.  She 
is  the  light  of  my  house,  Ahtowan,  and  I  can  not  bear  to  think 
of  losing  her,  and  yet — 

AHTOWAN.     (Quickly.)     And  yet? 

COCHEWA.    What — is  our  little  birdling  going  to  fly  away? 

TEWANI.    Not  far,  Cochewa,  not  far. 

COCHEWA.  Well  I  remember,  Tewani,  when  her  mother  was 
a  tiny  baby,  and  I  carried  her  out  to  see  the  sun  for  the  first 
time.  That  was  long  ago,  but  I  still  remember  how  she  rubbed 
her  eyes  with  her  little  fists  and  cried  as  the  sun  rose  over 
Dokoslid. 

TEWANI.    And  now  her  daughter  is  a  woman. 

COCHEWA.    Just  at  the  age  of  Hotewa. 

NAMPEYO.     (From  doorway.)     Come  father. 

TEWANI.    Yes,  little  one,  I  am  coining.    (Starts  up  ladder.) 

AHTOWAN.  But  who  is  he?  To  whom  are  you  going  to 
give  our  little  girl? 

COCHEWA.    He  must  be  happy  who  is  going  to  possess  her. 

TEWANI.  Even  as  1  was  years  ago  when  her  mother  came 
to  me.  (Matter  of  fact.)  Yes,  tonight  the  wedding  ceremony 
is  to  begin. 

AHTOWAN.    But  who? 

COCHEWA.    Yes,  is  it — 

TEWANI.     (Suddenly  and  rather  sharply.)     It  is  Tanto! 

COCHEWA.     (Surprised.)     Tanto?    Why  I  thot — 

TEWANI.  Tonight  the  ceremonial  baskets  will  be  laid  be 
fore  the  door.  I  have  promised  it,  and  I  never  yet  have  broken 
a  promise. 

(Tewani  climbs  ladder.    Exit  thru  his  doorway.) 

COCHEWA.  (Looking  after  him,  talking  to  self.)  Nampeyo 
married  to  Tanto? 

AHTOWAN.     (Starting  off,  right.)     Come  with  me  Cochewa. 

COCHEWA.  (Tottering  after  and  looking  back  at  times.) 
Yes — but — I  don't  understand.  Hotewa  is — is— 

AHTOWAN.    Come. 

(As  they  pass  the  Kiva  Hotewa  comes  out.  Cochewa 
stops.) 


26  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

COCHEWA.    Hotewa,  my  son. 

HOTEWA.    What  is  it,  my  father? 

COCHEWA.  I  have  brought  you  up  as  my  own  child,  Ho 
tewa,  I  want  to  see  you  happy. 

HOTEWA.    I  am  sure  of  it  father. 

COCHEWA.  Look  well  to  the  dance  today.  You  are  the 
only  one  who  knows  the  secret  words. 

HOTEWA.    With  tae  help  of  the  Gods  I  shall  lead  it  well. 

COCHEWA.    And  do  not  grieve,  my  son,  over  Nampeyo. 

HOTEWA.     (Smiling.)     Why  grieve?    She  is — 

COCHEWA.     What? 

HOTEWA.    She  is  to  marry  me, — after  the  rain  has  come. 

COCHEWA.     (Quickly.)     She  is  to  marry  Tanto. 

HOTEWA.    Who? 

COCHEWA.     The  Chief  has  promised  it. 

HOTEWA.     Tanto? 

COCHEWA.    Yes! 

HOTEWA.    Why — why — 

COCHEWA.  The  Chief  has  sworn  it.  He  told  us  but  a 
moment  ago. 

HOTEWA.  (Turning  away.)  Oh,  I  feared  it.  I  feared  it. 
Tanto  is  great,  Tanto  is  powerful,  Tanto  is  rich,  and  I — I  am 
only  a  flute  dancer. 

COCHEWA.    You  will  be  the  saviour  of  your  people. 

HOTEWA.  (Rather  bitterly.)  And  lose  Nampeyo?  Go  Co- 
chewa,  go.  I  must  speak  to  her  alone. 

(Exit  Cochewa  and  Ahtowan,  right.  Hotewa  starts  toward 
house.  Hears  young  men's  voices  off  left  and  goes  to  Kiva. 
Enter  Tanto,  Ahwante,  Notawa,  loivano,  Yoivytewa,  lower  left.) 

AHWANTE.    Tell  us. 

OTHERS.     (Except  Tanto.)    Yes,  tell  us.    What  is  it? 

TANTO.     (Haughtily.)     Wait, — till  tonight. 

OTHERS.    No,  now.    Tell  us  now. 

TANTO.  Well,  I'll  tell  you.  You  know  our  pretty  Nam 
peyo? 

OTHERS.    Yes? 

TANTO.    How  do  you  like  her? 

AHWANTE.    Most  beautiful  of  all  our  women. 

TANTO.    Yes? 

NOTAWA.    Her  father  has  much  corn. 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  27 

TANTO.    Yes? 

YOWYTEWA.    And  he's  the  Chief. 

TANTO.     (More  gleefully.)    Yes! 

IOWANO.    They  say  that  Hotewa — 

TANTO.    Hotewa?    What  of  Hotewa? 

IOWANO.    The  people  say  that  Hotewa  and  she  will  be — 

TANTO.    Go  on. 

IOWANO.    Be  married. 

TANTO.  fBraggingly.;  O  ho!  The  people  say  that,  do 
they?  Ha!  Ha!  Well,  here's  the  time  both  the  people  and 
Hotewa  are  fooled.  Listen!  Tonight  I  lay  the  baskets  of  mar 
riage  before  the  door  of  pretty  Nampeyo.  As  soon  as  the  dance 
is  over  our  marriage  ceremony  is  to  begin. 

OTHERS.    What!     You,  Tanto? 

TANTO.  Yes,  I,  Tanto!  The  Chief,  Tewani,  promised  me 
not  an  hour  ago. 

IOWANO.    But  what  of  Hotewa? 

TANTO.  Hotewa  be  damned.  What  care  I  for  Hotewa? 
Why  does  everyone  make  such  a  fuss  over  Hotewa? 

IOWANO.    Hotewa  is  to  lead  the  Flute  Dance. 

TANTO.    Well,  what  of  that? 

IOAWANO.    We  look  to  him  to  bring  the  rain. 

TANTO.  (Scornfully.)  Yes?  Well  you  just  watch  for  all 
the  rain  he  brings.  And  as  for  Nampeyo,  watch  me. 

YOWYTEWA.    What  does  Nampeyo  say? 

TANTO.     (Pause.)     The  chief  has  promised  it! 

YOWYTEWA.    Look — there  she  comes  now. 

(Enter  Nampeyo  above.  She  waves  at  group.  They  are 
talking  together.  She  descends  ladder.) 

AHWANTE.  And  how  is  Nampeyo  this  morning?  Um 
hakani,  Nampeyo? 

NAMPEYO.    Lolomi,  Quatze!     I  am  happy. 

YOWYTEWA.    As  always. 

NAMPEYO.  Yes,  as  always.  Now  I  go  to  get  our  last  corn. 
Oh,  but  we'll  get  some  more  somehow,  I'm  sure. 

TANTO.    Let  me  go  with  you  and  carry  it. 

NAMPEYO.    You,  Tanto? 

TANTO.    Yes. 

NAMPEYO.  (Turns  her  back.)  No,  1  would  rather  you 
wouldn't.  Come,  Ahwante,  you  will  carry  my  corn,  won't  you? 


28  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

(Takes  Mm  off  ivith  her,  center.) 

(All  look  at  Tanto  for  a  minute,  then  laugh.) 

NOTAWA.    So?    You're  going  to  marry  Nampeyo,  are  you? 

TANTO.     (Furiously.)    Wait  and  see. 

(Exit  Tanto  angrily,  left.) 

NOTAWA.  The  Hopi  woman  usually  rules  the  household, 
but  perhaps  the  Chief  is  master  in  his  house. 

IOWANO.    But  how  did  Tanto  get  him  to  promise? 

YOWYTEWA.    Oh,  he  tricked  him  somehow. 

(Exit  Notawa,  Yowytewa  and  lowano,  center,  saying  to 
gether — "Yes,  that's  right,''  etc.  When  they  have  gone  the 
chant  is  heard  from  behind  scenes.  Nampeyo  and  Ahwante 
come  in  with  corn.  They  climb  the  ladder  and  Ahwante  gives 
her  the  corn  at  her  doonvay.  With  a  "Thank  you,  Ahwante," 
she  goes  in,  and  he  exits  rear  2,  after  looking  after  her  a 
moment.  Then  Hotewa  sloioly  comes  from  Eiva,  whistles  an 
odd,  bird-like  ivhistle  under  Nampeyo's  doonvay.  Enter  Nam 
peyo;  looks  around  and  sees  Hotewa  below.) 

NAMPEYO.     (With  feeling.)     Hotewa. 

HOTEWA.     (Sadly  and  tenderly.)    Nampeyo. 

NAMPEYO.  What  is  it?  You  look  weary.  What  is  the 
matter?  Is  it  the  drought — or  the  dance? 

HOTEWA.    No,  little  one,  not  that 

NAMPEYO.  What,  then.  Come,  tell  your  Nampeyo.  (She 
sits  on  edge.  Hotewa  climbs  ladder  until  he  is  even  with  her.) 
Now  tell  me.  (Touches  his  hair  with  her  finger.)  Perhaps  I 
can  help  you. 

HOTEWA.    Don't  you  know  already? 

NAMPEYO.    No,  what  is  it? 

HOTEWA.    Haven't  you  heard? 

NAMPEYO.  (Cheerfully.)  Haven't  I  heard?  Why  no,  only 
the  memory  of  your  voice.  I  hear  that  always.  Come,  what 
is  it  that  frightens  my  Hotewa? 

HOTEWA.  Not  long,  Nampeyo,  can  you  call  me  your  Ho 
tewa. 

NAMPEYO.    What!     Why  not? 

HOTEWA.      (Slowly.)      Because    tonight,    my    little    peach 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  29 

blossom, — tonight  the  ceremonies  are  to  begin,  and  you  are 
to  become  the  bride  of — (Pause  as  Nampeyo  starts  and  leans 
forward,  breathing  heavily) — TANTO. 

(Nampeyo  starts  back.  Pause,  then  she  leans  slowly  over 
to  Hotewa  and  whispers  in  a  terrible  tone.) 

NA  MPEYO.    TANTO  ! 

HOTEWA.  Yes,  Tanto.  The  Chief,  your  father,  has  prom 
ised  it. 

NAMPEYO.    (Tensely.)    To  him? 

HOTEWA.    Yes. 

NAMPEYO.  Oh,  but  I  shall  not.  I  care  nothing  for  Tanto. 
It  is  you,  Hotewa,  whom  I  am  going  to  marry. 

(Touches  his  forehead.) 

HOTEWA.    My  Sipala  Lolomi! 

NAMPEYO.  It  is  for  me  to  decide.  In  a  Hopi  house  is  not 
the  woman  master? 

HOTEWA.    Aye! 

NAMPEYO.  Then,  shall  I  marry  whom  I  hate?  No,  never. 
Hotewa,  it  is  you  whom  I  shall  marry. 

(Clings  to  him.) 

HOTEWA.  (Slowly.)  Yes,  the  woman  is  master  in  Hopi- 
land,  but — 

NAMPEYO.    What? 

HOTEWA.  You  know  your  father.  He  has  promised  it,  and 
that  is  the  end.  (Nampeyo  sinks  back  disconsolate.)  Oh,  Nam 
peyo,  that  which  I  have  feared  so  long  has  come.  And  so  I 
have  come — to  say — goodbye — to — you.  I  can  never  call  you 
again  as  I  have  called  you  now. 

NAMPEYO.  (Wonderingly.)  Good  bye? — Good  bye?  (Pause, 
then  she  leans  forward  and  clings  to  him.  He  puts  his  arm 
gently  around  her.)  Must  you  and  I  say  good  bye?  No,  no! 
(Passionately.)  NO!  (Leans  on  him.)  MY  Hotewa,  NO! — 
Oh,  I  can't  think!  Tanto,  Tanto.  Oh,  Hotewa,  hold  me.  Press 
closer  to  me  and  give  me  strength.  Listen,  have  you  talked 
with  my  father? 

HOTEWA.  No,  but  you  know  whatever  he  has  promised 
must  be  done. 

NAMPEYO.    And  has  he  promised? 

HOTEWA.  Yes,  promised.  Cochewa  told  me.  And  the  bas 
kets  are  to  be  placed  before  your  door  tonight. 


30  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

NAMPEYO.  (Questioningly.)  And  are  you  going  to  let — me 
-go? 

HOTEWA.    No,  no!     I  cannot  let  you  go. 

NAMPEYO.    Hotewa! 

HOTEWA.  .  (Helplessly.)  But  what  can  I  do?  I  am  no 
chief.  I  am  not  even  rich  like — Tanto. 

NAMPEYO.  They  say  today  you  are  to  lead  the  Flute 
Dance.  Today  all  Oraibi  looks  to  you. 

HOTEWA.    Your  father  has  promised  Tanto. 

NAMPEYO.  (Slowly.)  And  as  he  promises,  so  must  it  be. 
And  yet — I  wonder. 

HOTEWA.     (Quickly.)     What? 

NAMPEYO.  Listen,  Hotewa.  You  know  away  far  off  across 
the  desert — 

HOTEWA.    Yes. 

NAMPEYO.    Where  the  big  river  runs  between  the  hills? 

HOTEWA.    Yes  ? 

NAMPEYO.    There  live  our  blood  brothers,  the  Tehuas. 

HOTEWA.    Yes. 

NAMPEYO.    Hotewa,  my  brave  one,  can  ice  not  go  there? 

HOTEWA.  Yes,  strong-hearted;  yes,  that  is  the  way. 
(Clasps  her  to  him.) 

NAMPEYO.    We  will  forget  all  else  but  you  and  me. 

HOTEWA.    Remember,  it  is  a  long  journey,  Nampeyo. 

NAMPEYO.    We  are  strong. 

HOTEWA.    The  way  is  rough,  even  for  men. 

NAMPEYO.    What!    Think  you  I  am  a  weakling? 

HOTEWA.  (Looking  at  her.)  Ah,  no,  Sipala.  Who  should 
know  better  than  I  your  strength  of  limb  and  body? 

NAMPEYO.  Do  you  remember  that  day  when  you  and  I 
traveled  across  the  desert  to  Dokoslid's  top  and  back,  between 
the  rising  and  the  setting  of  the  sun? 

HOTEWA.    Do  you  think  I  could  forget  it? 

NAMPEYO.  Then  say  no  more  of  the  hardness  of  the 
journey.  Even  tho  I  am  a  woman  I  am  strong.  Why  should 
we  fear  the  desert? 

HOTEWA.  With  such  spirit  we  could  conquer  an  hundred 
deserts. 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  31 

NAMPEYO.  And  if  the  ceremony  is  to  begin  today  we  must 
not  wait.  Take  your  bow,  and  I  will  take  my  beads.  We  can 
buy  corn  with  them  until  you  can  grow  some  of  our  own. 

HOTEWA.  Yes,  soon  we  shall  grow  some  of  our  very  own. 
And  we  will  build  a  house  to  live  in. 

NAMPEYO.    A  house  of  stone. 

HOTEWA.    Just  like — 

NAMPEYO.    Yes? 

HOTEWA.  (Sloivly.)  Just  like  the  dear  old  houses  of 
Oraibi. 

NAMPEYO.  (Musingly.)  Where  we  grew  up  thru  all  that, 
happy  playtime. 

HOTEWA.  Where  little  Hotewa  learned  to  love  little  Nam- 
peyo. 

NAMPEYO.  Yes,  Hotewa,  we  have  grown  up  to  it  thru  all 
these  happy  years.  Haven't  we? 

HOTEWA.  (Thotfully.)  Dear  old  Oraibi!  How  many 
times  its  ancient  walls  have  listened  to  the  loves  of  Hopi 
youths  and  maidens! 

NAMPEYO.    It  is  where  our  fathers  lived — and  died. 

HOTEWA.  Where  they  worshipped  the  Gods  of  old.  Listen! 
In  the  Kiva  they  are  chanting. 

(They  are  silent  as  the  faint  sound  of  the  chant  is  heard 
proceeding  from  the  Kiva.) 

Oh,  Nampeyo,  for  you  I  would  brave  a  thousand  deserts. 
For  you  I — and  yet,  beloved,  somehow — oh,  forgive  me. 

NAMPEYO.    What  is  it? 

HOTEWA.  The  tribe!  They  have  chosen  me  to  lead  the 
Flute  Dance. 

NAMPEYO.    Many  others  could  lead  the  dance. 

HOTEWA.  I  alone  know  the  secret  rites.  The  tribe  looks 
to  me  today  to  bring  the  rain. 

NAMPEYO.    Can  we  not  wait  until  the  dance  is  done? 

HOTEWA.  No,  for  then  the  ceremony  will  begin.  Besides 
they  will  be  watching.  We  could  not  get  away.  Oh,  Nampeyo, 
is  there  no  other  way? 

NAMPEYO.  (Sloivly  and  sadly — looking  steadily  at  him.) 
No,  Hotewa,— no  other  way!  It  is— that— or— TAN  TO. 


32  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

HOTEWA.  (Startled  at  tJie  name.)  Then  go  we  shall! 
Today!  Before  the  dance  it  must  be.  Once  the  ceremony  is 
begun  there  is  no  turning  back.  Before  the  sun  is  set  we 
must  be  far  away. 

NAMPEYO.    On  the  trail  to  the  Tehuas! 

HOTEWA.  To  the  Tehuas.  Listen,  Nampeyo!  You  must 
stay  until  after  the  dance  begins.  Then  you  can  slip  away 
unnoticed,  because  they  will  not  miss  you  while  the  dance  is 
on.  Meanwhile  I  will  make  ready  and  go  at  once  to  the  spot 
where  the  trail  enters  the  shadow  of  Dokoslid.  They  will 
miss  me,  I  know,  but  once  gone  they  will  never  find  Hotewa. 
Be  strong,  little  one,  and  we  shall  meet  again.  Go  now  and 
make  ready. 

NAMPEYO.    And  you? 

HOTEWA.  I  will  make  ready,  too.  And  in  the  Kiva  I  will 
make  a  Baho  to  plant  at  the  spring  as  a  prayer  that  the 
Katchinas  may  forgive  us,  and  send  rain  to  the  Hopituh.  Oh, 
my  peach  bloom, — Sipala  of  my  heart! 

(They  press  close  a  moment.  Then,  as  Hotewa  starts  to 
descend  the  ladder.  Nampeyo  leans  forward  and  kisses  his 
forehead.) 

NAMPEYO.    To  meet  again  under  Dokoslid. 

(Nampeyo  starts  to  go.  He  watches  her  until  she  has 
disappeared  in  her  father's  doonvay.  There  is  a  pause  for  a 
moment  as  Hotewa  holds  the  pose.) 

MOOA.  (Outside.)  I  tell  you  if  the  rain  doesn't  come  we 
shall  all  die. 

TAWASE.  (Outside.)  Put  another  Baho  at  the  spring, 
Mooa.  Surely  the  Gods  will  send  rain  before  we  all  die. 

MOOA.  (Outside.)  I  begin  to  fear  that  the  Gods  have  for 
gotten  us. 

(Terrible  sobbing  heard  in  doorway  next  to  Mooa's  house 
where  Matase  lives.) 

MATASE.  (Outside.)  Ai — ee,  ai — ee!  (Then  a  scream  and 
a  voice  crying.)  My  baby,  my  baby.  Dead!  Oh  Patan,  God 
of  the  Hopituh,  is  my  baby  dead?  (Enter  Matase  from  her 
doorway,  sobbing  and  crying,  carrying  body  of  baby,  her  hair 
flying  down  her  back.  She  does  not  see  Hotewa.  Holds  out 
body,  then  sinks  down  sobbing,  and  covering  it  with  kisses.) 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  33 

Oh,  my  baby,  my  baby!  Come  back  baby,  oh  come  back. 
(Rocks  it,  singing  Hopi  lullaby.)  Pu-va,  Pu-va.  Oh!  Dead! 
(Throws  back  her  hair,  showing  staring  eyes  and  face  red 
with  tears.)  Ha,  ha,  ha!  (Hysterical  laughter,  then  gasping 
sols.)  Oh,  my  baby.  (Rocks  it  and  holds  it  close.) .  Come 
back  to  me.  Come  back! — No,  NO!  It  is  better  so,  if  the  rain 
comes  not  we  shall  all  die.  (Tenderly.)  Better  now!  Bet 
ter  now!  (Hoteiva  is  deeply  affected.)  Yes,  little  one,  sleep, 
sleep.  (Sings  Hopi  lullaby.)  Today  they  dance  the  Flute 
Dance;  then  perhaps  the  rain  will  come.  Oh,  why  could  you 
not  have  lived  till  then,  my  baby?  (She  staggers  to  her  feet, 
holding  the  body  closely.  Reels  and  starts  to  fall  but  is  saved 
by  Hotewa  who  jumps  out  and  catches  her.) 

HOTEWA.  There,  Matase,  be  quiet.  The  little  one  is  not 
thirsty  now. 

(Matase  bursts  into  sobs.) 

MATASE.  Hotewa!  Hotewa.  Dance  the  Flute  Dance  well 
today.  We  look  to  you  to  save  us.  You!  You!  No  one  else 
can  save  the  tribe  of  the  Hopituh. 

(Hotewa  is  silent.  He  takes  the  hysterical  Matase  into 
her  house.  Comes  out  again  and  starts  towat  d  Kiva.) 

(Enter  Cochewa,  Ahtowan,  and  Dokoya.) 

AHTOWAX.  Why,  Hotewa!  Why  aren't  you  in  the  Kiva 
getting  ready  for  the  dance? 

HOTEWA.  I  am  going  there  now,  but  other  things  have 
kept  me. 

AHTOWAX.  What  others,  Hotewa?  What  is  more  import 
ant  today  than  the  Flute  Dance? 

HOTEWA.     (Reluctantly.)    The  baby  of  Matase  is  dead. 

COCHEWA.  (Slowly,  hardly  comprehending.)  Dead?  Ma- 
tase's  baby? 

HOTEWA.    Yes,  she  is  in  there  with  it  now. 

COCHEWA.  Woe,  woe  to  the  Hopituh.  When  the  children 
die  then  the  tribe  dies.  Hotewa,  my  son,  you  must  lead  the 
dance  well  today.  (Hotewa  does  not  speak,  but  looks  away.) 
Yes,  my  boy,  you  must  lead  it  so  well  that  the  Katchinas  on 
the  sacred  mountain  will  hear  our  prayer  for  rain.  (Totters 
to  dooncay.)  Matase,  Matase,  my  daughter. 


34  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

(Exit  Cochewa  thru  Matase's  doorway.  /Softs  heard  within.) 

AHTOWAN.  It  was  her  only  one — the  last  of  its  clan.  If 
no  others  come  to  her  then  the  line  of  Cochewa  will  be  no 
more. 

DOKOYA.    May  the  Gods  grant  her  many! 

AHTOWAN.  (Going  on  with  thot.)  But  if  the  rain  doesn't 
come  soon,  the  whole  tribe  of  the  Hopituh  will  be  only  a  des 
ert  memory.  Hotewa,  you  are  the  man.  Today  we  shall 
watch  you  in  the  dance  as  you  pray  with  the  sacred  flute  for 
the  people  of  peace.  (To  others.)  Come,  let  us  leave  him  to 
make  ready. 

(Exit  all  but  Hotewa.  He  sits  on  bench,  head  on  liands. 
Looks  up.) 

HOTEWA.  (Aghast.)  To  me?  Hotewa?  The  tribe  looks 
to  me  today.  (Hand  to  forehead.)  I  can't  think.  Oh  Nam- 
peyo!  my  Nampeyo!  What  shall  I  do?  (Flute  melody  heard, 
soft  and  plaintive.)  Listen,  the  sacred  flute.  (Walks  slowly 
toward  Kiva.)  On  the  altar  of  my  fathers  I  will  ask  for  help. 
(Slowly  descends  ladder  as  flute  keeps  playing.) 

CURTAIN 
End  of  Scene  I 

Quick  change  of  scenery  as  arranged  so  that  curtain  rises  on 
Scene  II  very  shortly. 


ACT  1.     SCENE  II. 


THE  KIVA 

(As  curtain  rises  Kiva  is  very  dark — light  comes  in  only 
from  opening  in  roof  where  the  ladder  leads  out.  In  one  cor 
ner  is  a  little  fire  and  around  it  sit  three  priests,  naked  but 
for  their  breech  cloths.  One  is  playing  on  a  Plopi  flute,  while 
another  softly  beats  a  drum.  HOTEWA  ENTERS  ABOVE 
AND  SLOWLY  DESCENDS  THE  LADDER.  Thruout  the 
scene  the  flute  melody  keeps  going,  now  soft,  now  loud,  and  a 
low  chant  at  intervals.  At  the  foot  of  the  ladder  Hotewa  looks 
around  him,  then  goes  to  other  end  of  Kiva  where  the  wall  is 


AT  THE   ENTRANCE  TO  THE   KIVA 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  35 

covered  with  a  fantastic  painting.  Here  he  kneels  on  the 
ground.  (Not  especially  before  the  picture,  but  merely  in  the 
attitude  of  reverence.)  For  a  while  he  does  not  speak.  Then 
as  the  chant  is  heard  he  begins.) 

HOTEWA.  God  of  my  fathers!  Father  of  the  Hopi  people! 
Oh,  leader  of  thy  people,  guide  me  aright  this  day.  Help  me 
to  choose.  (Flute  grows  louder.)  Oh,  ruler  of  the  thunder 
and  father  of  men,  give  me  a  sign.  It  is  a  sign  I  pray  for. 
Send  me  some  sign  to  point  me  on  my  way. 

(Stage  suddenly  darkens  entirely.  Flute  and  chant  are 
silent.  Then  slowly  in  the  back  the  vision  appears  of  Nam- 
peyo  sitting  with  an  unfinished  basket  beside  her.  In  her 
arms  is  a  baby  to  which  she  is  singing.  She  sings  the  Natoma 
lullaby.  Meanwhile  Hotewa  starts  up  with  his  arms  out 
stretched.  She  looks  at  him  and  smiles,  and  then  the  vision 
slowly  fades.) 

HOTEWA.  Is  this  a  dream  or  can  it  be  true?  Nampeyo! 
Oh,  Nampeyo,  is  this  the  sign  from  the  Gods.  Dream  of  my 
heart,  my  dear  one,  I  will  go!  I  will  make  ready  and  hasten 
to  Dokoslid.  (Rubs  eyes.)  What  is  this? 

(Another  vision  appears.  People  starving.  The  men 
stagger  along,  thirst  is  killing  them.  Hotewa  buries  his  face 
in  his  hands  to  keep  from  seeing  the  horrible  sight.  Others 
walk  in.  Two  men  fight  for  a  cup  of  d^rty  water.  One  sinks 
down,  too  weak  to  struggle.  An  old  man  is  seen  stretching  his 
hands  up  to  heaven.) 

Oh,  father  of  the  Hopituh,  giver  of  the  rain,  is  this  my 
sign? 

(Old  man  falls  over  dead.) 

Nampeyo,  Nampeyo,  come  back  to  me.  (Hides  face  in 
hands.)  Oh,  my  Nampeyo,  must  I  give  you  up — and  to  him? 
No,  I  will  not. 

(Looks  again  at  vision.  The  flute  begins  to  play  again. 
He  listens.) 

The  flute  of  the  Gods.  Are  they  looking  to  me  today  to 
save  the  tribe  from — this?  I  cannot  go.  I  cannot  leave  in 
this  time  of  need.  God  of  my  fathers,  I  accept  your  sign. 
Today  I  shall  lead  the  ancient  Flute  Dance.  Today  I  give 
myself  to  save  the  tribe. 


36  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

(The  vision  slowly  fades  out,  and  in  the  Kiva  the  priests 
chant  softly  as  the  curtain  slowly  descends  and  hides  Hotewa 
as  he  Kneels  upon  the  ground  looking  toward  where  the  vision 
had  l)een.) 

CURTAIN 

END  OF  SCENE  II. 

END  OF  ACT  I. 


ACT  II. 

'WITH  FLUTES  THEY  PRAY  TO  THE  RAINGOD8" 


37 


ACT  II.     SCENE  I. 


THE  PUEBLO 

(Curtain  discloses  Pueblo  as  in  Act  7.  Scene  I.  Dokoyu 
sits  on  bench  of  house.  People  seated  about  him  on  ground 
laugh  as  curtain  rises.) 

DOKOYA.    Yes,  that's  how  the  fox  got  his  bushy  tail. 

SOYOMI.  He  was  brave.  I  tell  you,  I  like  to  hear  how  he 
fixed  his  wife. 

AHWANTE.    Like  you  fix  yours,  eh? 

(Others  all  laugh.) 

SOYOMI.    Well,  you  don't  have  to  remind  me  of  it,  do  you? 

YOWYTEWA.    Tell  us  another  story,  Dokoya. 

OTHERS.    Yes,  tell  us  another. 

NOTAWA.    Tell  us  about  Le-lang-uh. 

DOKOYA.    How  many  times  I  have  told  the  tale  to  you! 

PEOPLE.    Tell  us  again.    Tell  us  again! 

AHWANTE.  Today  they  dance  the  Flute  Dance.  Tell  us  of 
Le-lang-uh. 

DOKOYA.  It  is  a  long  tale.  Longer  than  the  one  about 
the  fox.  How  well  you  know  the  story! 

PEOPLE.    Tell  us  anyway.    Tell  us. 

DOKOYA.  Of  Le-lang-uh  it  shall  be  then.  (Changes  de 
meanor  and  gestures  /or  silence.)  Aliksai!  In  Oraibi  the 
people  were  living.  And  it  was  many  plantings  ago — before 
even  all  our  clans  had  come  to  us.  And  there  came  one  day 
a  man  to  Oraibi,  at  a  time  of  great  drought,  when  all  the 
people  were  dying  of  thirst. 

WOMAN.    Even  as  now  we  thirst. 

DOKOYA.  Aye,  even  as  now.  He  was  tall,  this  man,  and 
his  skin  was  as  white  as  the  rocks  of  Weepo.  The  people 
treated  him  kindly.  They  gave  him  a  house  to  live  in  and 
part  of  their  last  corn  to  eat,  because  they  thot  he  was  a  God 
— perhaps  a  Katchina  come  to  live  in  Oraibi.  But  he  said  not 
a  word  of  who  he  was. 

YOWYTEWA.    Who  was  he? 

DOKOYA.    Have  patience.    For  two  years  no  rain  had  come 

38 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  39 

and  many  Hopis  died.  And  the  spring  was  dry.  (This  last 
very  slowly.) 

PEOPLE.     (With  horror.)     Oh!     The  spring  dry! 

DOKOYA.  There  was  no  water  in  all  Tusayan.  Then  one 
day  the  strange  man  said:  "Do  you  believe  in  the  Gods?" 
And  the  people  answered,  "Yes!"  Then  he  said:  "If  you  want 
rain,  do  as  I  tell  you."  So  he  went  to  his  house  and  got  a 
flute — such  as  Tusayan  had  never  seen  before — the  sacred 
blue  flute  of  the  Gods. 

NOTAWA.    The  one  Hotewa  is  to  play  today! 

DOKOYA.  The  very  one.  "Make  you  flutes  like  this,"  the 
stranger  said  to  the  old  men,  and  they  did.  Then  he  said, 
"Come  with  me!"  So  the  men  took  the  flutes  they  had  made 
and  dressed  as  he  dressed  and  followed  him  down  the  trail. 
But  when  they  came  to  the  spring  he  stopped,  and  there  he 
taught  them  to  play  the  flutes — taught  them  the  sacred  music 
that  will  call  the  Gods.  But  to  Sa-to-be-ah  he  taught  the 
secret  words  of  the  Lelentiwa — the  holy,  secret,  prayers. 
"Keep  these  words  in  your  heart,"  said  he  to  Sa-to-be-ah,  "and 
forget  them  not.  But  teach  them  to  your  son  and  let  them 
be  taught  to  his  son  and  unto  his  in  turn,  so  they  be  never 
forgot  in  Tusayan." 

YOWYTEWA.    Who  speaks  them  today? 

DOKOYA.  Hotewa.  When  Cochewa  had  no  son  he  took 
Hotewa  and  taught  him  all  he  knew,  so  that  today  he  is  to 
lead  the  dance. 

IOWANO.    But  what  of  the  stranger? 

DOKOYA.  Aliksai!  "I  am  Le-lang-uh,"  he  said  when  he 
had  taught  them  the  sacred  songs  and  secrets.  "And  I  come 
from  the  sunrise  by  the  big  waters  of  the  ocean." 

PEOPLE.    Oh!     The  ocean! 

DOKOYA.  "Do  as  I  do  and  you  shall  have  rain,"  said  he. 
So  they  all  did  as  he  did  and  danced  the  dance  of  flutes  until 
the  clouds  came  and  the  rain  poured  over  the  desert. 

AHWANTE.    But  what  about  Le-lang-uh? 

DOKOYA.  Aliksai!  Into  the  clouds  he  went,  and  no  one 
has  ever  seen  him  since,  save  Oh-ti-o-ma,  who  said  he  saw  him 
dancing  with  the  Katchinas  on  the  sacred  peaks.  And  ever 
since  then  the  Hopis  have  danced  the  Flute  Dance  to  pray 


40  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

the  Gods  for  rain,  and  the  sacred  flute  has  always  been  handed 
down  from  father  to  son.  Aliksai! 

(He  holds  up  his  hands  as  a  signal  that  he  is  finished.) 

AHWAXTE.    Today  Cochewa  gives  it  to  Hotewa. 

YOWYTEWA.    And  with  it  the  secrets. 

AHWANTE.    The  secrets  of  the  sacred  flute. 

SOYOMI.    I  like  the  fox  story  better. 

YOWYTEWA.    Why  ? 

SOYOMI.  Because  he  gets  even  with  his  wife. 

YOWYTEWA.    Why  don't  you  do  that,  too? 

SOYOMI.  (Decidedly.)  I'm  going  to.  I'm  going  to  do  it 
right  now.  I'm  going  to  fix  her  right. 

(Exit  Soyomi  bravely.) 

AHTOWAN.    Soyomi's  always  heedless  in  time  of  danger. 

(Others  laugh.  People  are  getting  up  to  leave  when  Ma- 
tase  rushes  in  with  half  filled  water  jar.) 

MATASE.  The  spring!  (Falls  on  face  in  front  of  people 
who  crowd  around.)  The  spring  is  dry. 

(People  all  exclaim.) 

Dry!  (A  scream.)  Oh,  my  baby.  I  will  be  with  you  soon. 
The  spring  is  dry. 

(Cochewa  totters  in.) 

COCHEWA.    What  is  it? 

AHTOWAX.    She  says  the  spring  is  dry. 

COCHEWA.  (Bending  over  Matase.)  Matase,  my  daughter, 
tell  me. 

MATASE.    Dry!     We  shall  all  die  soon. 

(People  show  feeling.) 

COCHEWA.  Woe  to  the  Hopituh!  Not  while  I  have  lived 
has  the  spring  done  dry.  Where  is  Hotewa? 

AHTOWAN.    In  the  Kiva. 

COCHEWA.  Tell  him  the  life  of  Tusayan  is  in  his  hands. 
He  alone  can  save  us. 

(Tawase  rushes  in.) 

TAWASE.    The  spring  is  dry.    Come  and  see. 

(Excited  people  rush  off  after  her.  Cochewa  stays  and 
helps  Matase  to  her  house.  He  then  starts  out  after  them  when 
Nampeyo  enters  above  and  calls  to  him.) 

NAMPEYO.    Cochewa. 

(He  stops  and  she  comes  down  ladder.) 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 


41 


COCHEWA.    What  is  it  my  child? 

NAMPEYO.  Oh,  Cochewa,  I  must  talk  to  someone.  You 
have  always  been  my  friend. 

COCHEWA.  Who  is  there  who  is  not  a  friend  of  Nampeyo? 
And  who  could  blame  her  for  feeling  sad? 

NAMPEYO.    You  know,  then? 

COCHEWA.    Yes. 

NAMPEYO.    Oh,  but  I  won't  marry  Tanto.    I  can't. 

COCHEWA.    It's  hard,  I  know. 

NAMPEYO.    No,  I  can't.    I  won't.    I  shall  marry  Hotewa. 

COCHEWA.    Hush,  my  child. 

NAMPEYO.    Yes,  I  will  marry  Hotewa. 

COCHEWA.  I  know  you  love  Hotewa.  But  it  is  promised. 
The  Gods — 

NAMPEYO.  /  promised  no  one.  No,  I  shall  not.  I  am  go 
ing  away. 

COCHEWA.    Where? 

NAMPEYO.    We  are  going — Hotewa  and  I. 

COCHEWA.    And  leave  the  tribe — to — die? 

NAMPEYO.  We  are  going  to  the  Tehuas.  He  is  to  meet 
me  on  the  trail.  You  are  the  only  one  I  can  tell,  Cochewa. 
You  are  Hotewa's  father.  You  can  understand. 

(Slowly.)     Yes,  I  think  perhaps  I  can  under- 


COCHEWA. 

stand. 

NAMPEYO.    Do  you? 

COCHEWA. 

NAMPEYO. 
father  for  me. 


(Slowly.) 


I,  too,  was  young  once — long  ago. 
Then   you   know.     Oh,   tell   good   bye  to  my 
(Bitterly.)     He  has  driven  me  away. 

(Exit  Nampeyo,  center.) 

COCHEWA.  (Looking  after  her.)  Going  away — you  and 
Hotewa.  Yes,  I  was  young  once.  I  know  the  fire  of  youth, 
but  oh,  Gods  that  my  fathers  worshipped,  hear  me.  Take  my 
son,  Hotewa,  and  lead  him  aright.  Make  him  to  see  the  way. 
Guide  him  who  this  day  must  save  the  tribe  from  death. 

(As  Cochewa  says  this,  Hotewa  comes  from  Kiva.  Sees 
Cochewa,  runs  to  him,  and  kneels  before  him.) 

HOTEWA.    Father,  forgive  me. 

COCHEWA.     (Turning.)     My  son! 

HOTEWA.  All  that  you  taught  me  I  would  have  thrown 
away. 


42  THE  GODS  AKE  GOOD 

COCHEWA.     (Raising  Mm  tenderly.)     Tell  me,  Hotewa. 

HOTEWA.  But  I  have  seen  the  vision  sent  from  the  Gods. 
I  have  seen  the  way. 

COCHEWA.  May  the  Gods  be  praised!  Speak,  my  son,  tell 
me. 

HOTEWA.    Wretch,  I  am!     I  would  have  thrown  all  away. 

COCHEWA.    I  think  I  know.    It  was  Nampeyo. 

HOTEWA.  (Nods.)  She  and  I  were  going  to  run  away. 
Going  to  leave  everything,  and  trust  to  getting  safely  across 
the  desert.  /  would  have  done  it.  But  now — oh,  father,  can 
I  stay  and  see  her  married  to  Tanto? 

COCHEWA.     (Slowly.)    You  must,  my  son. 

HOTEWA.    I  must?    I  will. 

COCHEWA.  A  man  has  come  to  Tusayan.  The  Gods  have 
answered  my  prayer. 

HOTEWA.  As  they  always  do,  father.  (Pause.)  But  how 
can  I  see  her  mar — 

COCHEWA.  (Interrupting.)  My  son,  if  you  can  save  the 
tribe,  what  matters  it  whether  you  save  your  life  or  lose  it, 
whether  you  gain  your  will  or  lose  it?  You  are  the  only  one 
who  can  play  this  day  the  sacred  flute  of  the  Gods.  I  played 
it  many  times  but  my  lips  are  parched  and  old.  You  alone  can 
lead  the  priests  of  the  Lenya.  You  alone  know  the  secrets  of 
the  Blue  Flute  Clan.  Go,  Hotewa,  and  make  ready.  The  Gods 
will  not  forget. 

(Hotewa,  a  smile  of  victory  on  his  face,  starts  toward 
Kiva.  Turns  and  looks  back  toward  Cochewa.) 

Surely  Those  Above  are  gracious  to  me,  an  old  man.  I 
have  not  long  to  live.  May  my  son  lead  well  the  sacred  dance. 

(Hotewa  exits  to  Kiva.  Cochewa  watches  him  and  then 
totters  off  left.  Noise  heard  in  house  and  Soyomi  enters  run 
ning,  with  Watobe  after  him,  brandishing  pestle.) 

WATOBE.    Hi,  you,  Soyomi!     Come  here. 

(Soyomi  keeps  on  running.) 

You'll  argue  with  me,  will  you? 

SOYOMI.     (Over  his  shoulder.)     I'm  not  arguing. 

WATOBE.  I'll  show  you.  You  come  here.  (Soyomi  keeps 
on  going.  Exit  on  other  side  of  stage.  Watobe  runs  out  after 
him.)  Come  and  grind  your  corn. 

(Noise  outside.) 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  43 

SOYOMI.     (Outside.)     Ouch!     Ouch!     I  say!     Oh,  my  head! 

WATOBE.  (Outside.)  (Ironically.)  Your  head!  You  come 
here  with  me  now.  (Enters  leading  Soyomi  by  ear.)  I'll 
teach  you  to  contradict  me.  Take  that — and  that — and  that. 
(Hits  him.) 

SOYOMI.    Ouch!     Oh,  I'm  killed!     I'm  killed! 

WATOBE.  No,  you  aren't.  But  you'll  wish  you  were. — 
Come  along  now. 

(He  sneaks  away  as  she  goes  around  corner  of  house. 
Starts  to  run  but  trips  over  bench  and  falls  sprawling  on  the 
ground.  Watobe  goes  after  him.) 

SOYOMI.    Woe  is  me!     Ai — ee!     Ai — ee!     Eternal  torment! 

WATOBE.  Eternal  torment,  eh?  So  that's  how  you  appre 
ciate  me,  is  it?  (Begins  to  cry.)  Boo,  hoo!  Here  I've  slaved 
for  you,  and  worked  for  you,  and  watched  over  you  all  these 
years. 

(Soyomi  rises  and  goes  to  her.  She  has  meanwhile  seated 
herself  on  the  bench  before  the  house.  As  she  utters  the  last 
three  words,  rocking  to  and  fro  on  the  bench,  Soyomi  turns 
toward  audience.) 

SOYOMI.    Boo,  hoo!     All  these  years. 

(But  he  really  is  touched  and  sits  beside  her,  his  arm 
around  her,  and  both  rock  back  and  forth  crying  in  unison.) 

WATOBE.    Boo,  hoo!     Here  I've  been  a  burden  to  you. 

SOYOMI.  No,  you  haven't.  You're  just  the  dearest,  nicest, 
finest  little  woman  in — 

WATOBE.    No,  I'm  not.    Boo,  hoo! 

SOYOMI.    Yes,  you  are! 

WATOBE.    I'm  not! 

SOYOMI.    You  are! 

WATOBE.    I'm  not! 

SOYOMI.    You  are! 

WATOBE.  I'm  not.  I  won't  have  you  contradict  me.  I'll — 
I'll — you  come  home  with  me  now. 

(Grabs  poor  Soyomi  by  ear  and  leads  him  off.  As  they 
go  off  Soyomi  turns  toward  audience.) 

SOYOMI.    I  take  it  all  back. 

(Flute  priest  comes  in  playing  softly.  Stands  by  Kiva 
opening.  Chant  heard  from  below.  Priest  whirls  Bull  Roarer 
and  Mooa  appears  at  opening.) 


44  THE  GODS  ABE  GOOD 

FLUTE  PRIEST.     (Solemnly.)     The  time  is  come. 

MOOA.    Aliksai!     It  is  well. 

FLUTE  PRIEST.  Already  the  shadow  of  Dokoslid  touches 
the  trail  to  Sityatki.  It  is  the  hour  to  call  the  people. 

MOOA.  I  am  ready.  (Throws  a  little  cornmeal  and  some 
white  confetti  into  air.  Both  watch  it  intently  as  it  falls.) 
The  signs  are  good. 

(Mooa  starts  to  climb  ladder.  Hotewa  enters  from  Kiva 
partly  clad  for  the  dance.  As  he  nears  center  exit,  Nampeyo 
enters  there.  She  sees  him— starts  back.  Then  slowly  speaks.) 

NAMPEYO.  Hotewa!  (He  turns  away.)  Hotewa!  Why 
are  you  here?  Why  not  at  Dokoslid?  (No  answer.)  Why  not 
at  Dokoslid? 

HOTEWA.     (Slowly.)    The  Gods  have  stayed  me. 

NAMPEYO.     (Putting  out  her  liand.)    Aren't  you  going? 

HOTEWA.    I  cannot. 

NAMPEYO.    Why  not? 

HOTEWA.    I  must  stay. 

NAMPEYO.    Why? 

HOTEWA.  Because  the  Gods  command  it.  Because  I  can 
not  leave  the  tribe.  I  am  the  only  one,  Nampeyo,.  If  I  stay 
we  may  have  life.  If  I  go,  death  will  surely  come  to  all. 

NAMPEYO.    But  me!     Have  you  forgotten  me? 

HOTEWA.     (Passionately.)    Nampeyo! 

NAMPEYO.    Have  you  forgotten  Tantof 

HOTEWA.  (Starts  as  if  struck.  Slowly  recovers, — hand  to 
forehead.  Then  he  takes  Nampeyo's  hand,  leads  her  to  right 
and  points.)  See  the  fields  there  where  the  corn  is  growing, 
and  the  melon  vines  are  winding  over  the  sand.  See  the  Hopi 
fields, — how  they  stretch  out  over  the  desert  land.  Can  I  run 
away  from  these? 

(Turns  and  points  back  at  Pueblo.) 

See  the  children  playing  by  the  doorway  and  the  people 
in  the  houses.  Can  I  forsake  them?  Must  they  all  die  like 
Matase's  baby? 

(The  chant  is  heard  from  the  Kiva.) 

Listen, — the  priests  of  the  sacred  flute  are  chanting  in 
the  Kiva.  Can  I  leave  them,  I — the  only  one  who  knows  the 
ancient  words?  Nampeyo,  the  Gods  have  spoken.  I  must  stay. 

NAMPEYO.     (Slowly  turning  to  him,  clasping  his  hands  in 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  45 

tier's,  and  speaking  in  a  low  voice.)  Yes,  Hotewa,  you  must. 
(Suddenly  sobs,  throws  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  leans  on 
him.)  Oh,  I  see  it  all  now,  how  selfish  I've  been, — how  ter 
ribly  selfish.  I  wanted  you — wanted  you  for  my  own — and  I 
couldn't  see.  I  couldn't  understand. 

HOTEWA.    But  you  do  now? 

NAMPEYO.    Yes,  my  Hotewa,  I  do. 

MOOA.  (From  above,  beginning  his  call.)  Hear  ye — people 
of  Oraibi.  The  hour  is  come. 

HOTEWA.     (Looking  up.)     It  is  Mooa. 

MOOA.    Hear  ye!     They  are  to  dance  the  Dance  of  Flutes. 

(Enter  Cochewa,  Ahtowan,  Tewani,  and  several  others.) 

HOTEWA.    I  must  go. 

MOOA.    With  flutes  they  pray  to  the  Rain  Gods. 

(Enter  Tanto,  young  men,  and  Nikano.) 

HOTEWA.    Good  bye!     (Still  clinging  to  one  of  her  hands.) 

NAMPEYO.  Good  bye!  (Pause,  then  quickly  adds.)  May 
the  Gods  watch  over  you, — for — ever.  (Drops  his  hand.) 

(Tanto  watches  them,  and  haughtily  draws  back  as  Ho 
tewa  comes  by.) 

TANTO.  (To  others.)  Make  way  for  the  flute  priest.  (Ho 
tewa  stops  and  looks  at  him.)  Let  him  pass.  Back! 

HOTEWA.  (Quietly.)  Haven't  you  mocked  me  enough, 
Tanto,  without  adding  this? 

TANTO.    Ha,  ha!     With  all  your  scheming  I  have  beat  you. 

HOTEWA.     (Strongly.)    Tanto! 

TANTO.    Ha,  ha! 

MOOA.    Come  to  the  sacred  dance.    Ai — ee — ee! 

TANTO.  (Contemptuously.)  He  calls  you  to  come,  rain- 
bringer. 

HOTEWA.  (Slowly  and  quietly,  yet  passionately.)  Lolomi! 
You  shall  have  cause,  Tanto,  to  call  me  that. 

(Exit  to  Kiva.) 

MOOA.    The  hour  is  come. 

(People  meanwhile  have  gathered  on  the  stage.  Some  sit 
on  edge  of  roofs.  Cochewa  starts  up  ladder.) 

COCHEWA.  Help  me,  Mooa,  I  am  getting  old.  I  can't  climb 
these  ladders  as  I  used  to. 

(Mooa  helps  him.  When  he  gets  on  top  he  looks  around 
him.) 

No  cloud.    No  sign  of  rain  from  heaven. 


46  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

(Mooa  climbs  down  and  goes  to  Kiva.  Pause,  then  a  priest 
appears,  center — the  crowd  respectfully  stands  back  as  tie 
comes  slowly  -forward.  He  walks  to  the  mouth  of  the  Kiva. 
Swings  Bull  Roarer.  A  priest  appears  in  Kiva  opening.) 

KIVA  PRIEST.    Who  are  you? 

OTHER  PRIEST.    A  stranger. 

KIVA  PRIEST.    Whence  come  you? 

OTHER  PRIEST.    From  far  away. 

KIVA  PRIEST.    What  errand  brings  you? 

OTHER  PRIEST.  I  call  the  dance  of  Le-lang-uh.  Are  you 
ready,  Priest  of  Oraibi? 

KIVA  PRIEST.    We  are  ready. 

OTHER  PRIEST.    Then  call  the  priests  of  the  Lenya. 

(Kiva  priest  raises  hand  for  silence  to  people,  and  chant  I 
is  heard  very  low  in  Kiva.  The  two  priests  stand  side  by  side 
near  Kiva.  Both  start  to  play  flutes.  All  the  priests  except 
Hotewa  slowly  file  out  of  Kiva,  chanting  low.  Man  with  asper- 
gill  leads  slow  march  around  stage.) 

NIKANO.  They  come  to  dance.  Come,  Tanto,  let  us  watch 
them. 

(Nikano  climbs  to  first  roof,  followed  by  Tanto.  The 
priests  stand  in  line  near  the  wall.  Three  with  flutes.  The 
first  two  start  Chant  II  as  other  is  finished  and  strangely 
accent  it  by  stamping  with  one  foot.  Girl's  chorus  of  eight 
file  in  and  line  up  facing  the  men.  Chant — to  tune  of  "Aooah" 
by  Lieurance — Flute  Maidens  and  Flute  Priests.  Girls  singing 
first  two  lines  of  each  stanza  alone.) 

God  of  our  fathers 
Do  not  forget. 

Hear  us;  save  us; 

Send  us  the  rain. 

With  flute  and  song 
We  call  upon  Thee. 

Hear  us;  save  us; 

Send  us  the  rain. 

Spread  Thy  white  clouds 
Over  all  Tusayan. 

Hear  us;  save  us; 

Send  us  the  rain. 


THE  GODS  ABE  GOOD  47 

For  we  are  faithful 

To  Thy  commands. 

-  Hear  us;  save  us; 

Send  us  the  rain. 

Hear  us  and  save  us, 
Send  us  the  rain  of  life. 

Heed  Thou  Thy  people- 
Praying  to  Thee. 

(Then  comes  the  slow  figure  march  of  the  Flute  Dance. 
One  leads  drawing  cloud  figures  of  corn  meal  ahead  of  the 
company  as  they  march  along.  This  is  a  very  slow,  weird, 
ceremony.) 

NIKANO.    No  clouds  answer  them. 

COCHEWA.    No  clouds! 

(All  priests  and  dancers  make  circuit  of  stage  stamping 
on  hollow  place  and  chanting.  Hotewa  appears  at  Kiva  open 
ing.) 

PEOPLE.     (As  Hotewa  appears.)     It  is  Hotewa. 

(He  has  a  blue  flute  in  his  hand,  decorated  with  a  bright 
colored  string.  He  is  dressed  somewhat  more  elaborately 
than  the  others.  The  man  with  the  aspergill  sprinkles  holy 
water  to  the  six  directions,  and  a  flute  sounds  as  he  crosses 
stage.) 

COCHEWA.    No  cloud  yet. 

NIKANO.    See!     They  blow  their  flutes  to  no  avail. 

(Chant  I  again,  all  swaying  bodies  in  time  and  accom 
panied  with  flutes  and  tom-toms.  Nikano  remarks  once  in  a 
while,  and  Cochewa  also.  Chant  begins  faster  noiv. — Chant 
III.) 

COCHEWA.  There  is  no  cloud.  Gods  of  the  Hopituh,  heed 
our  prayer  for  rain. 

NIKANO.    Call  louder,  your  Gods  are  asleep. 

TANTO.    Or  dead.    Call  louder. 

TEWANI.    Has  Tanto  joined  the  mockers? 

NIKANO.  Aye,  Tanto  is  a  wise  man.  Where  is  the  rain? 
Where  are  your  Gods  now? 

COCHEWA.     Blasphemer,  would  you  condemn  us  to  die? 

TANTO.    Yes,  if  our  time  has  come. 


48  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

(A  feto  speeches  back  and  forth  in  similar  vein  at  each 
lull  in  the  dance.  The  man  with  the  aspergill  sprinkles  the 
holy  water.  Hoteiva  throws  white  confetti  into  the  air — 
watches  it  fall — then  begins  odd  chant  alone,  accompanied  by 
chorus  of  "Ho,  ho,  ho,  ho!) 

HOTEWA.     (Down  upon  his  knees.) 

Oh  thou  of  the  thunder — 
Thou  of  the  Rain  Clouds, 
Thou,  the  white-towering, 

Father  and  guide  of  men, 
Why  have  you  forgotten? 
Why  have  you  not  sent  us  rain? 
Have  you  not  heard  our  prayers? 
Have  you  not  heard  our  chants? 
Oh,  thou  of  the  lightning— 
Thou — mighty  life-giver, 
Hear  us;  save  us; 
Send  us  the  rain. 

FLUTE  PRIESTS — Tune  of  Chant  IV. 
Ho-ya-ha!     Ho-ya-ho! 

Hear  us. 
Ho-ya-ha!     Ho-ya-ho! 

Hear  us. 

(Stretch  out  hands  to  Hoteica.) 
Call  upon  the  Gods, 
With  the  secret  words, 
That  they  may  hear  us — 
That  they  may  save. — 

HOTEWA.    Hear  ye — cloud-dwellers.    Hearken  and  heed. 
PEOPLE.    The  secret  words. — 

HOTEWA.  (Sings  strange,  wild,  chant,  with  fantastic 
words  accompanied  by  tom-tom,  flutes  and  soft  "Ha  ha,  ha, 
ha,"  by  priests  and  maidens.) 

PEOPLE.    The  words  of  Le-lang-uh! 
HOTEWA. 

Oh,  Ruler  of  the  Thunder! 

Oh,  Leader  of  Men! 

In  the  holy  Kiva  have  I  chanted 

the  chants  of  old. 
In  the  holy  Kiva  have  I  chanted 

the  secret  words. 
In  the  holy  Kiva  have  I  repeated 


THE  GODS  ABE  GOOD  49 

the  words  of  Le-lang-uh. 
Where,  then,  are  the  rain-clouds, — 
Where  the  water-bearers  of  life? 
Will  you  not  hear  us, — 
Will  you  not  heed  our  call? 
PRIESTS — Tune  of  Chant  IV. 

Ho-ya-ha!     Ho-ya-ho! 

Hear  us. 
Ho-ya-ha!     Ho-ya-ho! 

Hear  us. 

Hearken  and  hear  us  as  we  pray. 
Hearken  and  hear  us  ere  we  die. 

(A  strange  change  comes  over  the  dancers.  Orchestra 
begins  "Dagger  Dance"  from  "Natoma"  Hotewa  is  on 
his  knees  with  his  face  upon  the  ground.  Three  flute  priests 
and  the  drummer  stand  by  the  side  of  the  house.  The  dance 
goes  on — wilder  and  wilder.  The  "Hoya!  Hoya!"  shout  is 
heard  at  intervals  as  the  dancers  circle  about  the  prostrate 
Hotewa.  As  the  dance  reaches  its  final  climax  all  sing  a 
chant  together  and  people  all  join  in  final  chords.  Grand  final 
pose  at  end  of  chorus,  ending  with  the  words,  "Heed  our 
prayer,  send  us  the  rain."  Even  the  scoffers  are  silent  at  this 
impressive  time. — Cochewa  extends  his  hands  to  heaven.) 

COCHEWA.    Gods  of  my  fathers.    Hearken  and  hear!     Oh! 
(Cry  of  distress.    Totters  and  falls.    Confusion  on  stage.    Men 
carry  Cochewa  down,   Nikano   helping,  and  as   curtain  falls 
they  take  him  down  into  the  Kiva.) 
CURTAIN 


ACT  II.     SCENE  II. 

THE  KIVA 

(Curtain  discloses  Nikano,  Ahtowan,  and  several  men  hur 
riedly  carrying  the  unconscious  Cochewa  down  the  ladder. 
Hotewa  comes  down  ladder  afterward,  followed  by  other  flute 
priests.  He  bends  over  Cochewa.) 

HOTEWA.  Cochewa!  Come  Cochewa!  Wake  again.  You 
were  like  a  father  to  me  when  my  own  was  dead.  Cochewa, 
(Kneels  beside  him,  lifts  his  head.)  Come,  father,  wake  again. 

(Cochewa  opens  his  eyes  and  looks  about  him,  sees  Ho- 
tewa.) 


50  THE  GODS  ABE  GOOD 

COCHEWA.  (Very  weak.)  Hotewa,  my  son,  my  son,  bend 
over  me.  Tell  me  good  bye  and  let  me  die  in  peace. 

HOTEWA.    No,  you  are  strong  yet.    You  must  not  die. 

COCHEWA.  It  is  better  so.  I  have  lived  long  in  the  land 
of  Tusayan. 

HOTEWA.    But,  father,  you  can  live  longer  still. 

COCHEWA.  No,  Hotewa.  Oh,  my  son,  I  have  cared  for  you 
as  my  own  since  your  father  and  mother  left  you  for  the  land 
of  Those  Above.  (Pause.)  Hotewa,  be  true  to  the  trust  I  leave 
you.  Hold  fast  to  the  Gods  of  your  fathers,  even  as  I,  Co- 
chewa,  have  done. 

HOTEWA.    Yes,  father. 

COCHEWA.  Today  you  showed  your  spirit.  (Rouses  up 
slightly.) 

HOTEWA.     (Soothing  him.)    There,  there. 

COCHEWA.  (Quickly.) .  I  know!  I  know  how  you  gave  up 
your  loved  one  for  the  sake  of  the  people.  Oh,  my  son,  Ho 
tewa,  perhaps  you  have  lost  her,  but  thru  you  the  whole  tribe 
shall  live. 

HOTEWA.     (Rather  bitterly.)    If  the  rain  comes. 

COCHEWA.  Do  not  fear,  my  son,  for  the  Gods  of  the  Hopi- 
tuh  are  good.  Some  time  all  will  know  what  you  did  today, 
and  the  name  of  Hotewa  will  live  forever.  (Falls  back  on 
floor.) 

AHTOWAN.     (At  one  side.)     Where  are  the  Gods  now? 

IST  MAN.    They  have  gone  away. 

2ND  MAN.  Perhaps  their  power  is  gone.  Perhaps  they  are 
dying  of  thirst,  too. 

AHTOWAN.    What  if  there  are  no  Gods? 

IST  MAN.  There  must  be  Gods.  How  could  we  have  got 
ten  here  if  there  were  none? 

2ND  MAN.  There  might  have  been  Gods  then,  but  now 
they  must  be  dead. 

SED  MAN.    There  was  no  sign  of  a  cloud  even. 

IST  MAN.    No,  not  a  single  rain  cloud  for  a  year 

2ND  MAN.    For  a  whole  year  the  Gods  have  forgotten  us. 

NIKANO.  (Approaching,  in  firm  tone.)  There  were  none 
to  forget.  Today  we  toiled  and  labored  in  every  way  and  yet 
no  rain.  If  there  were  Gods  we  would  have  had  rain  long 
ago.  I  say — there  are  no  Gods. 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  51 

OTHERS.     (Agreeing  with  him.)    There  are  no  Gods. 

(Cochewa  lifts  up  on  one  elbow.) 

COCHEWA.     (To  Hotewa.)     What  are  they  saying? 

HOTEWA.    They  are  talking  about  the  rain. 

COCHEWA.    But  what  are  they  saying  about  the  Gods? 

NIKANO.    We  say,  there  are  no  Gods. 

(Cochewa  looks  at  him,  slowly  comprehending.) 

COCHEWA.  No  Gods?  You — say — there  are — no — Gods? 
(Slowly  raises  up,  supported  in  part  by  Hotewa.  Then  with 
a  sudden  movement  he  throws  off  the  great  robe  that  covers 
him  and  staggers  to  the  front  with  his  hands  stretched  out 
above  and  in  front  of  him.)  No  Gods!  (Almost  a  scream.) 
Look!  This  morning  I  said  that  today  the  Hopituh  should 
see  the  rain.  Again  I  say  it.  Before  this  night  the  rain  shall 
come  and  thus  will  the  Gods  show  their  love  for  the  Hopituh. 
(To  men.)  Men  of  Oraibi,  will  you  let  this  unbeliever  turn 
you  from  the  Gods  of  your  fathers?  Will  you  so  soon  forget 
their  mercies?  Nikano,  you  say  there  are  no  Gods.  You  say 
so — you  who  have  most  benefited  by  the  gifts  they  sent  us. 
Among  our  young  men  you  have  made  your  talk — you  have 
tried  to  draw  them  from  the  way  of  their  fathers.  Even  to 
the  priests  of  the  sacred  flute,  the  Lenya  of  the  Gods,  you 
have  spread  your  folly.  (Murmurs  among  the  men.)  Listen, 
do  not  turn  away.  Do  you  remember  Towasin,  that  other 
scoffer,  whom  the  Gods  killed  when  the  thunder  roared  over 
Sit-yat-ki?  (Anger  increasing.)  Tonight,  Nikano,  you  shall 
remember  him  if  you  do  not  now.  Are  you  unafraid?  Can 
you  not  feel  the  anger  of  the  Gods  upon  you?  Before  tonight 
you  shall.  Before  tonight  you  shall  call  on  them  for  help  as 
you  wander,  mad,  thru  old  Oraibi.  I  see  it!  I  see  you  seared 
by  the  lightnings  of  Towamo.  I  see  your  spirit  wandering  on 
the  lonely  trail  that  is  your  punishment,  for  the  Gods  shall 
show  the  people  that  they  still  live  in  Tusayan. 

(During  this  speech  the  other  men  sloivly  and  fearfully 
move  away  from  Nikano,  who  is  left  standing  alone.) 

Go  now,  and  meditate  on  the  will  of  heaven.  (Turns  away 
from  Nikano,  who  silently  moves  out  of  sight.  The  light  of 
prophecy  comes  over  the  old  man's  face.  He  looks  far  away, 
but  slowly  sinks  exhausted.)  Ah!  It  is  the  rain!  The — 
rain!  See,  the  children  are  splashing  in  the  pools  and  the 
women  are  dipping  the  water  from  the  hollows  of  the  rocks. 


52  THE  GODS  ABE  GOOD 

What  is  one  scoffer  to  this?  I  see  the  streams  rushing  down 
the  water  courses  and  the  glad  people  drinking  of  the  rain 
that  falls  upon  the  houses. 

HOTEWA.  (Aside.)  Would  the  Gods  I  could  feel  happy 
as  he  does!  Even  if  the  rain  should  come,  I  would  have  no  joy. 

COCHEWA.  (Turning  to  Hotewa.)  Hotewa,  my  son,  today 
you  proved  your  faith  in  the  Gods  of  old.  Hold  to  that  faith. 
Do  not  think  of  what  you  have  lost  but  of  what  you  have 
gained,  for  this  day  you  have  shown  that  your  soul  is  white. 
(He  sinks  down  exhausted.) 

HOTEWA.  (Bitterly  aside.)  Gone!  Everything  I  loved  is 
gone! 

(Cochewa  is  torn  with  convulsions.  Tries  to  speak  but 
cannot.  They  bend  over  him.  He  sinks  back  and  all  think  he 
is  dead.) 

AHTOWAN.    Is  he  dead? 

IST  MAN.    No,  he  still  breathes. 

(Cochewa  again  opens  his  eyes  and  looks  up,  a  smile  on 
his  face.) 

COCHEWA.  The  rain,  the  rain!  I  see  it  coming.  (Men 
look  away.  All  are  incredulous.)  Listen.  What  was  that 
sound?  (All  listen.  As  they  do  so  a  very  distant  peal  of 
thunder  is  heard.  Cochewa  does  not  hear  it.  He  has  become 
unconscious  again.  The  men  grow  excited.  Then  comes  a 
distant  shout.  "The  rain!"  and  then  another  nearer,  "The 
rain/"  Then  suddenly  the  patter  of  rain  is  heard  on  the  roof, 
and  a  few  drops  come  thru  the  doorway  in  the  roof.  The  men 
are  sobbing  with  joy.  Then  a  few  drops  touch  Cochewa  on 
the  face.  He  opens  his  eyes  and  raises  up  slightly,  supported 
by  Hotewa.) 

COCHEWA.  The  rain!  The  rain  from  heaven.  Oh  Gods  of 
the  Hopituh,  I  die  in  peace. 

(Falls  back  dead.  Shouting  grows  louder  outside.  All 
except  Hotewa  rush  out  sobbing,  and  glad  shouts  are  heard 
from  men  and  women  outside.  In  the  Kiva  Hotewa  tenderly 
covers  Cochewa  with  the  blanket — then  slowly  goes  to  altar 
and  bends  before  it.  As  the  curtain  descends  the  low  flute 
melody  of  the  prayer  for  rain  is  heard.) 

CURTAIN 
END  OF  ACT  II. 


ACT  III. 


"THE  WATER  THAT  IS  LIFE' 


53 


ACT.  III. 

THE  PUEBLO 

Evening  is  coming  on.  Remains  of  debris  from  dance 
scattered  about.  In  front  of  Soyomi's  house  a  fire  has  been 
built.  Every  little  while  the  rain  is  heard  and  a  little  distant 
thunder  now  and  then.  8oyomi  discovered  bending  over  fire 
trying  to  make  it  burn. 

SOYOMI  (Looking  up  and  talking  to  self  as  he  works 
around  fixing  the  fire  under  the  edge  of  the  eaves.)  Well,  the 
rain  has  come — tra-la-la — (Sings  in  a  cracked  voice.  Blows 
fire  comically,  still  trying  to  sing  and  not  accomplishing  either 
very  well.)  I  ought  to  have  made  my  wife  do  this.  (Pause.) 
Only  a  few  left.  (Holds  up  an  ear  of  corn.)  But  the  rain's 
here  and  we'll  live  somehow.  (Sings.) — 

For  who  shall  starve  or  die  of  thirst? 
With  water  in  the  spring  we'll  eat  enough  to  burst. 
Tra-la-la    Tra-la-la 

(la-la)         (la-la) 

We'll  live  on  cactus  and  sage  brush  fine, 
On  peach  tree  blossoms  and  on  To-to  vine. 
Tra-la-la    Tra-la-la 

(la-la) 

For  the  rain  has  ccme  and  the  thunder  too, 
And  the  dancers  feast  on  the  ripe  corn  blue. 
Tra-la-la    Tra-la-la 

(tra-la)        (la-la) 

O-which-ee-ah-hai-pa,  O-which-ee-ah-wu. 
So  come  and  join  in  the  jolly  song, 
Yes,  we'll  laugh  and  sing  the  whole  night  long. 
Tra-la-la. 

(Song  dies  out  because  singer  is  out  of  breath.     Blows 
fire  again,  smoke  blinds  him — coughs  and  rubs  eyes.) 
(Enter  Ahtowan.) 
AHTOWAN.    Where  is  Hotewa? 
SOYOMI    Hotewa? 
AHTOWAN.    Yes,  Hotewa. 

54 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  55 

SOYOMI.  Ah-tchoo — (sneeze.)  How  should  I  know?  I 
don't  keep  track  of  Hotewa.  I'm  trouble  enough  to  myself. 

(Ahtowan  crosses  to  Kiva  and  looks  down.) 

AHTOWAN.  With  his  head  on  the  old  man's  body.  (Pause 
as  Soyomi  hums  away  at  his  work.)  Poor  Hotewa.  How  bit 
ter  the  death  of  Cochewa  is  to  nim.  (Moves  quietly  away.) 

(Enter  lowano,  Ahwante,  Yowyteiva,  and  others,  laughing 
and  talking.) 

IOWANO.    Where  is  Hotewa? 

OTHERS.     Yes,  Hotewa — Rainbringer! 

AHTOWAN.  Be  qu^et.  He  is  praying  in  the  Kiva,  beside 
his  foster  father,  Cochewa.  Leave  him  alone  in  his  grief. 

(The  company  suddenly  quiets  down  and  starts  out.) 

AHWANTE.    Shall  he  not  feast  with  us  tonight? 

AHTOWAN.    Another  time!     Do  not  disturb  him  now. 

(They  go  out  lower  left.  Shouting  and  laughter  heard 
outside  when  they  nave  gone.) 

SOYOMI.    Hotewa's  a  great  man  now,  I  guess. 

AHTOWAN.    Since  the  rain  has  come. 

SOYOMI.    Uh-huh! 

AHTOWAN.    He  alone  saved  the.  tribe. 

SOYOMI  But  you  must  remember,  Hotewa  hasn't  got  a 
tvife  to  contend  with.  Say,  why  aren't  you  with  the  rest? 

AHTOWAN.  I'm  going  now.  (Starts  off,  but  Tewani  en 
ters  from  house.)  Ah,  Tewani,  see  how  the  Gods  have  an 
swered  our  prayers.  The  rain  from  heaven  has  covered  all 
our  fields. 

TEWANI.    Yes.    Are  the  dancers  feasting? 

AHTOWAN.  All  but  Hotewa.  He  stays  in  the  Kiva  with 
Cochewa. 

TEWANI.    Hotewa  led  the  dance  well. 

AHTOWAN.  The  tribe  must  thank  him  much.  He  has  brot 
back  my  faith  which  was  lagging. 

TEWANI    He  can  have  whatever  he  desires. 

AHTOWAN.    Yes? 

TEWANI.    Yes. 

AHTOWAN.    Not  quite,  perhaps. 

TEWANI.    Why  not? 

AHTOWAN.     (Slowly.)    They  say  he  desires  Nampeyo. 

TEWANI.    I — I  almost  wish  he  could  have  her. 


56  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

AHTOWAN.  (Quick  to  follow  up  lead.)  Why  not,  Tewani? 
He  loves  Nampeyo. 

TEWANI.    I  believe  it. 

AHTOWAN.    I  know  it. 

TEWANI.  I — (then  harshly) — but  I've  promised  her  to 
Tanto.  There's  an  end  of  it. 

AHTOWAN.    Why? 

TEWANI.  Because  Tewani's  word  is  absolute.  I  have  sworn 
it.  Would  not  the  Gods  have  vengeance  on  me? 

AHTOWAN.  But  what  of  Tanto  and  the  scoffer?  Tanto 
sided  today  with  Nikano. 

TEWANI.    The  scoffer?    Yes,  I  know,  but  Tanto  means  well. 

AHTOWAN.    And  fools  them  all. 

TEWANI.    (Going  on.)    He  is  very  rich. 

AHTOWAN.  Rich!  Yes!  But  what  are  riches?  Are  riches 
all  we  should  wish  for  our  little  girl?  Is  there  not  something 
more  than  riches? 

TEWANI    Surely, — but  Nampeyo  will  be  happy  with  Tanto. 

AHTOWAN.    I  deny  it. 

TEWANI.    You  think  she  will  not? 

AHTOWAN.    I  know  she  will  not. 

TEWANI  Oh,  you're  wrong  there,  Ahtowan.  Tanto  is  a 
good  man  even  if  he  does  talk  too  much.  Besides  I  have  sworn 
it,  and  it  must  be  done. 

AHTOWAN.    Even  if  she  should  be  unhappy  for  life? 

TEWANI.     My  word  would  never  be  good  again  I  tell  you. 

AHTOWAN.    Even  tho  it  is  to  one  like  Tanto? 

TEWANI.  Stop,  Ahtowan,  I  have  promised.  The  Gods 
would  not  let  me  turn  away  from  my  promise. 

AHTOWAN.  Think  once  more,  Tewani,  Nampeyo  is  too 
precious  to  sacrifice  in  this  way.  The  Gods  will  never  punish 
truth. 

(Exit  Ahtowan.) 

TEWANI.  (Looking  after  him.)  Hotewa  saved  us.  I  won 
der!  (Walks  a  few  steps  thinking,  then  stops.)  No!  It  is — ? 
O,  I  don't  know.  (To  doorway.)  Nampeyo. 

NAMPEYO.     (Within.)    Yes,  father. 

(Enter  Nampeyo.  Thruout  this  scene  she  is  very  quiet, 
sad  and  subdued.) 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  57 

TEWANI.  Little  daughter,  Sipala  of  my  heart,  how  like 
your  mother  you  are! 

NAMPEYO.    Am  I,  father? 

TEWANI  Those  same  eyes!  That  same  smile!  Oh,  that 
was  a  happy  day  when  she  came  to  me  so  long  ago. 

NAMPEYO.    Yes? 

TEWANI.  A  happy  day!  Nampeyo,  you  have  always  been 
a  dutiful  daughter. 

NAMPEYO.     (Resignedly.)     Yes,  father. 

TEWANI.  Tonight  my  blessing  goes  with  you  and  Tanto. 
Go  now  and  make  ready,  and  pray  the  Gods  for  luck. 

NAMPEYO.    Yes,  father. 

(Exit  Nampeyo.) 

TEWANI.  Does  she  care,  too?  I  thot  she  always  admired 
Tanto. 

(Boy  runs  onto  stage.) 

BOY.    They're  playing  the  Pa-ta-wa-ke.    Come  and  see. 
(Boy  runs  out  with  Tewani  folloiving  him.     As  soon  as 
they  are  off  the  stage  Nampeyo  comes  out  of  doorway  above — 
looks  down  toward  Kiva.) 

NAMPEYO.  Oh,  Hotewa,  my  true  one!  They  say  you  are 
still  down  there  grieving  over  Cochewa.  They  do  not  know 
what  it  is.  Only  you  and  I  know,  Hotewa,  just  you  and  I. 
You  did  your  duty;  you  saved  the  tribe.  And  only  /  can  know 
how  hard  it  was  for  you — how  much  it  hurt  you.  But  it  was 
right,  dear,  Nampeyo  knows  it  now,  and  you  can  never  know 
how  much  she  loves  you  for  it. 

(Exit  Nampeyo  thru  doorway,  saying  "Good  bye"  as  she 
goes.  Enter  people  shouting  and  laughing.  Orchestra  sounds 
opening  chords  of  "Song  of  Rejoicing,"  to  tune  of  Troyer's 
Zuni  "Hymn  of  the  Sun.") 

PEOPLE. — (Singing  the  "Song  of  Rejoicing") 
GIRLS — 

The  rain,  the  rain  from  heaven, 

Is  falling, — is  falling. 

It  falls  upon  the  house-tops, 

We  welcome  it  with  joy. 

It  falls  upon  the  Hopi  corn, 

And  thru  it  signs  of  life  are  born. 


58  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

So  welcome,  ye  rain  drops — 
For  the  Gods  will  not  forget 
Their  people,  so  faithful. 

Listen, — just  listen. 
MEN — 

Crystal  streams  in  murmurs  faint 
Bursting  forth  without  restraint. 
Life  and  laughter  in  the  sound 
Of  the  rain  drops  do  abound. 
They  are  messengers  of  love 
From  the  spirits  of  above. 
Bringing  light  and  life  and  joy 
From  the  Gods  who  dwell  on  high, — 
Gods  on  high — Gods  on  high. 
Listen, — just  listen. 
ALL — 

Praises  to  the  Gods  of  heaven, 

For  the  rain,  earth's  fruitful  leaven. 

'Tis  the  rain!     'Tis  the  rain! 
For  our  corn  its  blessed  power 
Brings  to  us  a  bounteous  dower. 
We  will  pile  our  storehouse  high 
Death  and  hunger  from  us  fly. 
Oh,  hearken  to  the  rain-God's  voice 
Beckoning  our  souls  to  rise. 
For  still  the  Gods  do  not  forget, 
And  they  love  their  people  yet. 
As  light  and  song  in  one  unite, 
Let  us  forever  bless  their  might. 
Oh,  Gods  of  heaven, 
Our  thanks  to  Thee  be  given. 
RESPONSE  FROM  WITHOUT — The  rain  is  come. 
SHOUT  FROM  WITHOUT — Come,  join  the  Pa-ta-wa-ke. 
PEOPLE.     Oh!   the  Pa-ta-wa-ke!   etc. 
(Exeunt  all.    Loud  shout  heard  off  stage.    Enter  Hotewa 
from  Kiva.) 

HOTEWA.  (At  Kiva  entrance  as  flute  plays  softly.)  Alik- 
sai!  The  Gods  have  pointed  the  way.  It  is  decided.  (Walks 
over  to  house.)  Good  bye,  Nampeyo.  Oh,  how  I  want  to  speak 
to  you.  (Noise  increases  off  stage.)  Good  bye,  old  Oraibi;  I 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  59 

have  loved  your  houses  and  your  byways.  Now  I  must  leave 
you,  never  again  to  wander  by  your  cliffs.  (Noise  again.)  They 
must  not  see  me.  (Starts  away,  then  looks  back.)  Oh,  if  I 
could  only  speak  to  you. 

(Music  and  laughter  louder  and  nearer.  Hotewa  hurries 
out  in  opposite  direction.  At  the  entrance  he  stops.) 

To  the  Tehua  people!  Good  bye  Oraibi  and  Nampeyo.  I 
have  nothing  left  to  stay  for.  May  you  be  happy,  Sipala! 
Good  bye. 

(Exit  Hotewa  right.  Noise  increases  off  left — shouting 
and  laughter.  Enter  merrymakers.  Play  game.) 

AHWANTE.    We  want  Hotewa. 

OTHERS.    Yes,  Hotewa, — bringer  of  the  rain. 

AHWANTE.    Where  is  he  now? 

AHTOWAN.    Still  in  the  Kiva  of  the  flute  priests. 

YOWYTEWA.    Call  him  to  join  us. 

AHTOWAN.  No,  didn't  I  tell  you  to  leave  him  alone?  Co- 
chewa  fathered  him  and  kept  him.  Let  him  be  tonight. 

AHWANTE.    Where's  Nampeyo? 

OTHERS.  Yes — Nampeyo.  Call  her — Call  Hotewa  and  Nam 
peyo. 

TEWANI.  Be  quiet.  Nampeyo  is  making  ready  for  her 
marriage — to  Tanto. 

OTHERS.  (Surprised.)  Tanto?  Will  she  really  marry 
him?  Tanto  has  forsaken  the  Gods. 

TEWANI.      Yes,  she  will  marry  Tanto. 

(Noise  subsides.  Crowd  falls  to  playing  games  again — 
laughter,  and  hilarious  fun.  One  calls  from  outside  and  all 
exeunt  center.  Enter  Nampeyo  above.) 

NAMPEYO.  (Tearfully.)  Yes,  I  will  marry  Tanto.  Oh,  my 
father,  I  have  been  a  good  daughter.  (Stretches  out  her  hands 
to  Kiva.  Starts  down  ladder,  walks  to  Kiva  entrance.  There 
she  looks  around  fearfully.)  No  one  can  keep  me  from  saying 
good  bye  to  Hotewa.  (To  Kiva,  with  feeling.)  My  Hotewa. 
(Peers  in  but  can't  see  him.)  Where  is  he?  (Starts  down 
ladder.)  Hotewa,  answer  me,  it's  Nampeyo.  (A  cry  is  heard 
beloiv.  She  comes  up  sobbing.)  He  is  gone!  (Looks  around 
her.)  Gone!  Oh,  where  is  he?  (Calls.)  Hotewa.  Hotewa. 


60  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

(Falls  on  bench  sobbing.  Merrymakers  come  running  back — 
see  her  and  are  silent.) 

AHWANTE.    Why,  Nampeyo,  what's  the  matter? 

NAMPEYO.    (Sobbing.)    Where's  Hotewa? 

AHWANTE.    Hotewa? 

NAMPEYO.    Yes — he — he's  gone. 

OTHERS.    Gone? 

NAMPEYO.  Yes,  I  looked  into  the  Kiva  but  I  couldn't  see 
him,  and  then  I  called  and  he  didn't  answer;  and  then  I  went 
down — but — he — wasn't  there.  (Falls  over  on  bench  in  grief.) 

(Enter  Notawa.) 

NOTAWA.    What's  the  matter? 

ALL.     (Confusedly.)    Hotewa — gone — not  there,  etc. 

NOTAWA.    Maybe  it  was  Hotewa  I  saw. 

OTHERS.    Did  you  see  him?    Where — etc. 

NOTAWA.  I  was  coming  up  the  Qua-tai  trail  just  now  and 
saw  someone  going  off  toward  Dokoslid. 

OTHERS.    Dokoslid? 

NAMPEYO.    Dokoslid?    Then  it  was  he.    And  he's  gone. 

OTHERS.    Where?    How  do  you  know?  etc. 

NAMPEYO.    To  the  Tehuas. 

OTHERS.    Let's  find  him.    Hurry. 

(All  but  Tewani  and  Nampeyo  run  out  left  excitedly. 
Nampeyo  watches  them  a  moment,  then  sadly  starts  up  the 
ladder  and  finally  exits.) 

TEWANI.  (Watching  her.)  Hotewa  gone,  and  Nam 
peyo  feels  so  sad!  I  wonder.  Is  it  all  a  mistake?  (Walks 
around  still  watching  Nampeyo.)  Perhaps  my  desire  for  the 
lucky  basket  was  too  great.  (Pause.)  Was  Ahtowan  right? 
(Shouting  heard  outside.)  I  might  have  waited.  (Walks  up 
and  down  in  agitation,  stands  irresolute.)  But  I  have  promised 
it, — have  sworn  it  by  the  Gods.  (Starts  to  climb  ladder. 
Shouts  grow  louder  outside.)  What  is  it? 

(Enter  Notawa  running.    Tewani  is  on  first  level.) 

NOTAWA.  (Pointing  back.)  Chief.  (Out  of  breath.) 
Nikano!  (Points  out.)  Nikano,  the  scoffer — 

TEWANI.    What  about  him? 

NOTAWA.  Over  the  cliff.  (Makes  motion  of  falling.) 
Every  bone  broken.  (Starts  to  run  out  on  other  side.) 


THE  GODS  ABE  GOOD  61 

TEWANI.  Wait.  Hey!  Tell  me.  (But  he  is  gone.  Te- 
wani  comes  down  ladder  confusedly.)  Nikano  dead?  Coche- 
wa's  prophecy!  (Shouting  louder  outside.)  And  Tanto! — a 
scoffer,  too.  Am  I  going  to  give  Nampeyo  to  an  unbeliever? 
Nikano  dead!  (Starts  out  but  people  enter  excitedly.) 

AHWANTE.    Nikano  is  dead. 

TEWANI.    How  was  it? 

AHWANTE.  Fell  from  the  cliff.  Cochewa  said  it.  The 
Gods  have  their  vengeance. 

IOWANO.    And  Tanto  is  next. 

(Tewani  starts.) 

OTHERS.    Tanto,  the  scoffer! 

TEWANI.    (Aside.)    Can  I  make  her  suffer  for  my  promise? 

AHWANTE.    Here  he  comes  now. 

PEOPLE.     (Confusedly.)    Tanto!     Shame!     Scoffer! 

TEWANI.    (Aside.)    No,  by  the  Gods,  /  will  not. 

(Enter  Tanto,  the  same  look  of  disregard  on  his  face. 
He  is  a  strong  man  and  brave.  He  has  acted  according  to  his 
convictions.  Still  naughty.  Others  turn  away.) 

TANTO.  Well!  (Silence.  Pause  ensues.  Some  walk  away. 
None  look  at  him.)  Well!  Am  I  a  dog  that  you  kick  me  thus? 
Speak!  (Pause.)  Ha,  ha!  you  cowards.  Has  this  Hotewa  so 
befuddled  your  brains?  Are  you  all  mad? 

(Starts  away.) 

AHTOWAN.  (Quietly,  after  him.)  Are  you  so  wanton, 
Tanto,  that  you  can  still  utter  your  blasphemies  in  the  very 
presence  of  the  Gods? 

TANTO.  (Turning  and  contemptuously  swinging  his  robe 
around  him.)  The  Gods  indeed! 

TEWANI.  (Breaking  in,  unable  to  control  himself  longer.) 
Aye,  Tanto,  the  Gods!  Do  you  still  make  little  of  the  Gods  of 
Heaven? 

TANTO.  (Haughtily.)  I  have  nothing  to  say  about  your 
Gods. 

AHTOWAN.  But  what  of  the  rain — this  answer  to  our 
prayer? 

TANTO.  A  shower  opportunely  come! — as  if  our  flutes 
could  call  the  rain! 


62  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

TEWANI.  And  shall  I  give  my  daughter  to  one  who  scoffs 
at  the  givers  of  rain?  No,  Tanto,  never! 

(Tanto  wheels  toward  Tewani.) 

Here,  take  your  eagle  basket.  (Throws  it  at  his  feet. 
People  murmur  and  draw  back,  saying,  "The  Sacred  Eagle 
Basket!"1  Leave  center  of  stage  clear  for  Tewani  and  Tanto. 
Tanto  contemptously  kicks  the  basket  aside,  still  looking  at 
Tewani.)  Will  the  basket  of  an  unbeliever  bring  good  luck? 
No,  none  shall  say  that  my  Nampeyo  is  married  to  a  scoffer. 

(Nampeyo  is  in  front  of  the  crowd.  She  comes  out  by 
Tewani,  who  puts  his  arm  around  her  while  with  the  other  lie 
motions  Tanto  away.) 

TANTO.    What?    Will  you  break  your  promise? 

TEWANI.     I  will! 

TANTO.  (Enraged.)  You  cannot.  You  have  sworn  it.  I 
demand  her.  (Starts  toward  them.) 

TEWANI.     (Gesturing  loith  free  hand.)     Away. 

TANTO.  What  will  your  promises  be  worth  hereafter? 
(Pause.)  Shall  these  people  call  you  "oath  breaker?" 

TEWANI.    Away. 

TANTO.     Even  your  Gods  will  not  believe  you. 

TEWANI.  My  Gods,  you  say?  They  are  the  Gods  of  truth 
and  not  of  wanton  blasphemy. 

TANTO.    Gods  of  truth  indeed!     Your  oath  is  broken. 

TEWANI.  My  oath  broken?  yes!  (Puts  Nampeyo  aside 
and  confronts  Tanto.)  Tanto,  by  the  Gods  I  swore  it — by  the 
Gods  at  whom  you  scoff.  And  now  by  these  same  Gods  I  take 
away.  These  people  are  witness  to  what  I  do. 

PEOPLE.    Ah! 

(Tanto  starts  toward  him,  but  Tewani  meets  him  with  up 
lifted  hand.) 

TEWANI.  Begone,  scoffer.  It  is  I,  Tewani,  the  chief,  who 
commands  it.  Go. 

(Tanto  and  Tewani  hold  pose  for  a  minute  and  then  Tanto, 
with  a  little  "Ha!"'  turns  and  walks  off.  People  have  mean 
while  crowded  up,  but  sink  back  as  he  goes.  He  gives  one 
more  glance  of  defiance  as  he  goes  out.  Exit  Tanto.  As  soon 
as  he  is  gone  the  crowd  breaks  into  turmoil.  His  personality 
has  held  them  while  he  was  there,  but  now  that  he  is  gone. 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  63 

the  people  surge  forward  and  some  rush  after  him  calling  him 
"Scoffer,  blasphemer"  etc.) 

TEWANI.  Stop.  Back  to  the  feast.  Is  all  Oraibi  to  be 
overturned  by  one  such  scoffer? 

(People  move  off  stage,  leaving  Chief  in  center  of  stage. 
Nampeyo  stands  by  the  wall  of  the  house.  He  does  not  see 
her.  He  sinks  down  on  the  stone  at  the  Kiva  entrance.) 

Oh,  little  Nampeyo,  my  daughter,  can  you  ever  forgive  me? 
I  would  have  given  you  to  Tanto.  (Hides  face  in  hands.) 

(Meanwhile  Nampeyo  comes  slowly  up  to  him  and  quietly 
puts  her  arm  around  his  neck.  He  looks  up.) 

Oh,  Nampeyo,  I  tJiot  it  was  for  the  best. 

NAMPEYO.  I  know,  father,  I  know.  You  ahvays  do  what 
you  think  is  best  for  me.  It's  a  way  they  have — these  fathers 
and  mothers. 

TEWAXI.     (Choking.)    And  now,  I  fear — 

NAMPEYO.  There,  there.  Come  now.  (Leads  him  up  lad 
der.) 

(Ahwante  comes  running  in.) 

AHWANTE.    Hotewa  is  gone.    No  one  can  find  him. 

TEWANI.  (Turning  as  he  climbs  ladder.)  Not  find  him 
yet?  Have  they  searched  Sit-yat-ki? 

AHWANTE.    Everywhere!    We  have  been  everywhere. 

TEWANI.  But  he  must  be  found.  Take  all  the  young  men, 
Ahwante.  Let  them  search  every  hollow  rock.  Send  them 
thru  every  canyon.  He  must  be  found.  Must  be  found.  (Turns 
and  starts  to  go  up.)  Oh,  (Hesitates.)  I'm  getting  old.  (Nam 
peyo  is  holding  him.  He  clutches  before  his  eyes  with  one 
hand.)  Oh!  The  wrath  of  the  Gods  is  upon  me. 

(Enter  Ahtowan  above,  hurries  to  him,  helps  him.) 

Ah!  Ahtowan,  (Leans  on  him.)  I  am  a  broken  man.  I 
would  have  given  her  to  a  scoffer. 

NAMPEYO.    But  you  didn't,  father. 

TEWANI.  Oh,  you  were  right,  Ahtowan.  I  knew  it  all  the 
time,  but  my  pride — you  know  what  a  man's  pride  is.  It  has 
eaten  my  heart  away  this  day.  And  my  daughter — 

NAMPEYO.    Come,  father. 

TEWANI.    I  have  destroyed  her  gladness. 


64  THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD 

NAMPEYO.  No,  I  am  as  happy  as  was  mother  that  day  so 
long  ago.  (Smiles  at  him.) 

TEWANI.    Nampeyo! 

AHTOWAN.    Surely  they  will  find  Hotewa! 

TEWANI.    Who  can  tell?  I  fear  he  is  gone  forever. 

(Nampeyo  and  Ahtowan  help  the  broken  old  man  into  the 
doorway.  Distant  sound  of  reveller's  song  as  curtain  des 
cends.) 

CURTAIN 
END  OF  ACT  III 


EPILOGUE 


"THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD' 


65 


EPILOGUE 


THE  PUEBLO 

(Scene  opens  in  darkness — music  of  Act  I,  Scene  I.  The 
only  light  on  the  stage  is  that  which  comes  from  the  open 
doorway  of  Tewani"s  house.  Mooa,  clothed  as  in  Act  I,  Scene 
I,  enters  from  Kiva.  He  sloivly  ascends  the  ladder  to  the  first 
roof,  where  he  is  plainly  seen  in  the  light  from  Tewanis 
doorway.  He  goes  on  up.  Waits  on  top  a  moment  as  in  Act  I, 
Scene  I.  Then,  in  the  same  long-drawn-out  call,  he  gives  his 
message  to  the  people.) 

MOOA.  Hear  ye!  Hearken,  oh  people  of  Oraibi.  Listen, 
oh,  ye  people  of  peace.  Great  praise  be  to  Le-lang-uh  and  to 
the  Gods  of  Heaven,  for  the  rain — has — come.  (Pause.)  Give 
thanks  to  the  Gods  all  you  who  dwell  in  ancient  Oraibi,  for  the 
Gods  of  the  Hopituh  have  not  forsaken  us  in  time  of  need. 
Ai — ee— ee!  (Long  drawn  out.)  Ai — ee — ee!  (Long  drawn 
out.) 

(In  the  pause  that  follows  this  call,  Hotewa  enters 
center,  barely  seen  in  the  darkness.  One  can  barely  distin 
guish  his  form.  At  the  Kiva  entrance  he  stops  and  bends  over 
the  opening.) 

HOTEWA.  Oraibi!  Good  bye,  Cochewa,  good  bye.  (Chok 
ing  with  grief.)  You  were  loyal  to  the  end.  Your  faith  was 
rewarded.  Good  bye.  May  the  Gods  be  good  to  you. 

(Hotewa  moves  from  Kiva  toward  the  houses  very  slowly 
and  stealthily.  He  is  startled  as  Mooa  begins  his  call  once 
more.  Pose  as  Mooa  calls.) 

MOOA.  Arise,  you  who  feast  this  night — and  call  upon  the 
Gods.  Bless  ye,  the  givers  of  the  rain.  Give  thanks.  (Long 
drawn  out.) 

HOTEWA.  It  is  Mooa  calling  to  the  people.  (Walks  up  to 
the  house;  touches  it,  then  draws  away.)  Oh,  old  Oraibi! 
How  many  times  I've  climbed  your  ladders!  How  many  times 
I've  gone  down  into  your  holy  Kivas.  Good  bye,  Oraibi,  you 
can  never  be  the  same  again  to  Hotewa. 

66 


A   GLIMPSE  OF   HOPILAND 


THE  GODS  ARE  GOOD  67 

(Stops  a  moment.  Girl's  voice  is  heard  singing  in  Chief's 
house.) 

Listen!  It  is  Nampeyo.  Must  I  say  good  bye  to  you? 
(Songs  grows  louder — then  dies  away.  Hotewa  climbs  sloivly 
up  ladder  and  appears  in  the  light  from  the  doorway.  He  looks 
in.)  Yes,  it  is  farewell.  I  have  come  back  for  the  last  time — 
just  to  put  this — baho  at  your  door.  May  it  bring  you  hap 
piness,  Nampeyo. 

MOOA.  Once  again  I  call  on  you  to  give  thanks  to  the 
Gods  for  their  mercies. 

HOTEWA.  (Bitterly.)  Can  /  give  thanks  when  you  are 
lost,  Nampeyo?  (Stretches  out  his  hands  and  speaks  tenderly.) 
Good  bye,  Sipala,  I  shall  never  see  you  again,  my  peach  bloom. 
Good  bye! 

MOOA.    For  the  mercies  of  the  Gods  are  great. 

HOTEWA.  May  the  Gods  keep  you  safe  and  make  you 
happy.  (He  places  the  Baho  by  the  door.) 

MOOA.    Give  thanks! 

TEWAM.     (Within.)     What  is  it  that  Mooa  calls  tonight? 

NAMPEYO.     (Within,  sadly.)     He  says,  "Give  thanks!" 

TEWANI.     Would  the  Gods  we  might  give  thanks. 

(Tewani  comes  to  doorway  and  looks  up.  Hotewa  quickly 
hides  behind  the  corner  of  the  wall,  and  Tewani  finally  goes 
back  into  house  without  seeing  him.  Hotewa  comes  from  hid 
ing  place.) 

MOOA.    Aliksai.    Ai — ee — ee!     Aliksai.     (Long  drawn  out.) 

(Mooa  starts  down.  Hotewa  starts  quickly  for  ladder  to 
get  away  without  being  seen.  As  he  does  so  Tewani  comes  to 
doorway,  thinking  it  is  Mooa.  He  sees  Hotewa  and  starts  as 
he  recognizes  him.  Hotewa  hides  his  face,  but  the  Chief  takes 
him  by  the  hand.  Orchestra  plays  softly  Lieurance's  "Indian 
Flute  Call  and  Love  Song."  Stage  is  dark  for  a  moment  as 
Tewani  leads  the  wondering  Hotewa  into  the  doorway  and 
closes  the  door.  In  the  darkness  Mooa  silently  goes  out  un 
seen  by  the  audience.  Then  the  door  opens  again  and  Hotewa 
and  Nampeyo  come  slowly  out  together.  Hotewa  still  looks 
bewildered.  They  walk  slowly  out  across  the  first  roof.  Just 
as  they  come  from  the  doorway  there  is  a  distant  peal  of 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


